


On Top of the World, at the End of the World

by EarthToQuinne



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance, The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Angst, Danger Days AU, Eventual Smut, Fluff, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Other, Romance, Since I am the God of this version of this universe it’s super queer because I said so, Slice of Life, Smut, Trans Male Character, Transgender, fluff abounds, gay nonsense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2019-10-25 20:03:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17731736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthToQuinne/pseuds/EarthToQuinne
Summary: The adventures of four friends at the end of the world.AKA: The one in which Fun Ghoul is in love with Party Poison, Party Poison is in love with chaos, Jet Star is everyone’s dad and Kobra is a small gay mess.





	1. Chapter 1

The desert is dark as he watches a fire die in the distance, the whine of engines speeding off into the blackness as the sound of music and laughter slowly started to fade. He zips his jacket up further and pulls the collar closer to his neck as he watches the night end from the roof of the old diner that the crew had been hiding out in for the past couple of months. They have all long since learned never to grow attached to one place. In this life of constant running and wandering, they’d all learned to sleep where they could find a place to lie their heads. But Ghoul has started to fall in love with this place- with its faded vinyl booths, bright, 50’s themed decor and a roof that could easily be accessed by a ladder near the exit that allowed him to get a better view of the sky. 

Of all the different things that he has allowed himself to call home, the only one that always seems to follow him are the stars. They always look the same, no matter where you are in the desert. Now that he’s free from the harsh glow of the city, the horizon is covered in lights. Ghoul lays back with his head resting on his arms and starts trying to remember the names of the different constellations. His head is filled with fog and his body desperate for sleep, but whenever he closes his eyes he can only hear the screaming of children, the flash of light just before the bombs dropped. No matter how much he tries to calm himself down, he always ends up breathing like he’s still running, trying to catch his breath. 

He woke up in the middle of the nightmare this time and managed to get himself out into the roof before he woke Kobra or Jet. Poison was off at a party another group of ‘Joys was throwing. He’d tried to convince Ghoul to come with him like he always did. And like he always did, Ghoul had politely declined. He’d never been one for parties. People were intimidating and groups were overwhelming. He figured if he was going to be awkward and miserable, he might as well do it alone where it was safe… Solitude was his natural state. In fact, he’d survived alone in the desert for months before Poison and Jet had saved him from being ambushed by a bunch of Dracs. He could still remember how he’d felt when he caught sight of Party Poison for the first time, unduly red hair flying in the wind as he shot at the enemy with reckless abandon, his face obscured by that silly yellow mask of his, his maniacal laughter ricocheting through Ghoul’s skull. 

He thought he knew how to be brave until he met Party, who didn’t seem to be afraid of anything as he blew hair out of his face and offered Ghoul his hand. His face was smeared with dirt and there was Drac blood splattered on his jacket but he’d looked like a dirty, neon angel lit up by the glow of the setting sun as he said, “You alright, Kid? Haven’t seen you around before.” Party offered him a place to crash for the night as the light continued to quickly fade. It was a temporary offer that had somehow turned into a permanent stay. Much to his own surprise, Fun Ghoul hadn’t minded. 

He’d never known what it was like to have somewhere, someone, to belong to. Like every other child orphaned by the War, he’d escaped to the desert with nothing left to lose. Most ran to find others like them, wanderers united in their desire to make a connection before the world finally crumbled beneath the weight of its own suffering. But Ghoul hadn’t hoped or even expected to find anything when he ran away to the Zones. Past the outskirts of the city, the desert stretched endless and unforgiving, and his only desire when he got there was to be swallowed whole by it. 

But then along came the Killjoys, with their stupid hair, love for life, and penchant for danger. The three of them moved like a unit, completely in sync with their chaos. It was impossible not to be drawn to them, to want to listen to their stories and share in their laughter.

“So what’s your name, Kid?” Jet had asked that first night as they were all huddled around a sloppily constructed bonfire. At some point, Poison had put his jacket around Ghoul’s shoulders when he noticed he was shivering in his thin cotton t-shirt. It’s a memory that’s still so fresh and vivid in his mind, years later.

“M-my name?” Ghoul had stammered as his shaking hands brought the mug of shitty instant coffee to his lips. 

“Yeah. You know, what your crew calls you?” Kobra chimed in. 

Party who was twisting the aluminum from an empty soda can he’d mutilated with his pocket knife, looked up at Ghoul gently. “It’s okay if you don’t have one. We all give names to each other when we leave the city as a way of… breaking free from it all. Who we used to be.” 

“Oh and here I was thinking all along that “Party Poison” was your given name,” Ghoul murmured to himself. Much to his surprise though, Party heard him and let out a goofy laugh. 

“Nah, it started as more of a reputation than a name. All of ours did. We earn our titles out here,” Jet replied.

Ghoul wouldn’t officially become “Fun Ghoul” until he was rolling with the Killjoys for at least a year. They mostly called him generic things like “Boy” or “Kid” which caused much confusion when Kobra was in the same room. Jet was determined to find a fitting name for him and workshopped many ridiculous titles, much to the bemusement of Party and the utter mortification of Ghoul. It was eventually his penchant for appearing suddenly behind his friends in dark places that got him dubbed “Ghoul.” “Fun” was tacked on one night after a particularly nasty fight with Party Poison who had remarked that Ghoul “sucked all the goddamned fun out of the room” whenever he walked in. It was harsh, but the irony made it stick, oddly enough. And just like that; without even looking for it, Ghoul not only had a family but a name. 

Ghoul’s mind is wandering and he doesn’t even notice the creaking of the ladder until a shadow is looming over him. 

“Pssst!” The figure says and Ghoul sits up with a start.

“Party what the fuck?!” 

He chuckles softly as he plops down next to Ghoul on the ground. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. But after all the times you’ve snuck up on me, I think we’re nearly even…” 

Party has his mask on and lipstick marks all over his neck and face. His hair is more of a mess than usual and the collar of his shirt horribly uneven. “So, good night huh?” 

Party just shrugs as he pulls up the mask and lets it rest on his hair so Ghoul gets a good look of his eyes, even in the low light. Green and bright, a shade that strongly reminds Ghoul of spring. Or at least what he imagines spring to feel like...

“It was okay. Kind of lonely,” he admits with a shrug. 

Ghoul shoots him a skeptical look. “You sure don’t look like you were lonely.” He gestures to the marks covering Party’s upper body. 

“Oh, these? Show Pony got drunk and we were both really fucking bored. We just made out for a while. Nothing serious.” He knocks their knees together and stretches his arms above his head. Ghoul isn’t surprised. Poison and Pony had fooled around a lot in the past but then who in the Zones hasn’t with Show Pony, honestly? 

“I mean I don’t care what or _who_ the fuck you do.” 

Poison chuckles. “You sure do sound like you care quite a bit, Ghoulie…” 

“As if! Pony’s mouth probably tastes like the bottom of an ashtray.”

“Yeah, wasn’t talking about them, Sunshine.” 

Fun Ghoul feels his face getting hot and he huffs, turning away from Party. “W-what— whatever!” 

Poison sucks his bottom lip behind his teeth as he rummages in his pockets. “Okay, Okay, here- peace offering.” He holds out something in his palm and Ghoul eyes it suspiciously. Poison rolls his eyes and makes a big show of unwrapping one of the lollipops and sticking it in his mouth. 

“Shit! You got candy?!” Ghoul grabs one from him, rips off the wrapper, and sticks it in his mouth in one fluid motion. The minute the artificial cherry flavoring touches his tongue, his eyes slip closed and he moans in contentment. “Fuck, it’s been so long since I’ve tasted something with sugar. Or color. Or flavor at all. Where’d you get these?” 

“Tommy had a shit ton he found the last time they went looting. The bastard was trying to sell them for fifteen carbons a piece! I stole a handful when he wasn’t looking…” Poison crushes the rest of the candy between his teeth and tosses the empty stick over the edge of the roof. His lips are now stained red and Ghoul can’t stop staring at his mouth. 

“So, why are you up here in the middle of the night? Nightmares again?” 

Ghoul hugs his knees to his chest and sighs. “Yeah… the same ones as always. Do they… ever get easier to deal with?” 

Poison hesitates and Ghoul just chuckles. “I know you’re going to tell me that they don’t. That out here you just find more things to haunt you and shit. But for once I’d like you to tell me what I wanted to hear and just fucking lie to me.” 

Poison smiles softly and shakes his head. “I may be an asshole but I’m nothing if not honest. We’ve all been lied to and cheated enough. Besides, I especially don’t lie to the people I love.” 

_Love._ What a strange yet powerful word. It’s something Ghoul wasn’t used to hearing or even feeling until he’d met the other Killjoys. But now he knows what love is. Love is Kobra bringing him coffee in the morning and asking how he’d slept even though they both know he hasn’t. Love is Jet chewing Ghoul’s ass for riding too fast on his bike whenever he goes out on his own for a supply run. Love is what he feels whenever he looks at Party Poison- but it’s a different kind of love. He doesn’t know how or why, but the way he feels about him is different from the way he’s ever felt about anyone else. Like the radiation slowly deteriorating his body and mind, Ghoul’s love for Party is eating away at him. 

Emotions aren’t something he’s exactly used to feeling. His entire life he’d been in a constant state of numbness- doing, thinking and feeling what he was told to. But when he left the city, the ability to feel had started to come back all at once, first like a small bruise that lingered just below the surface of the skin. It quickly turned into a full body ache as he was overcome by bouts of intense happiness, anger, fear. During his first few months alone in the Zones, he’d learned how to ride out the waves of feeling as they came until nothing felt unfamiliar anymore. But love was the strangest of all of them. Of all the things he’d felt since he left the city, love was the most persistent and the most confusing. 

“You’re getting that cute little crease between your eyebrows when you’re thinking too hard,” Party muses as he presses his thumb gently between Ghoul’s eyebrows, taking him out of his head once again. “What are you thinking about?”

A lump the size of a small asteroid is forming in Ghoul’s throat. Why does Party have to have such gentle hands? And why does he have to keep looking at him like that with those big green eyes? Why does he have to make him feel so much all at once? Why does his head start to spin the minute they get close to each other? 

“What does um… what does love feel like? Like… not the kind of love you have for Kobra. But like-“

“Romantic love?” Ghoul nods. 

Party thinks for a moment then says, “Well, it feels different for everyone but for me… I know I love someone when they walk into the room and I get the urge to drop everything just to be next to them, even if it means just being in their orbit for a minute. Love mostly feels like your guts are being ripped out over and over most of the time because when they hurt, so do you. But when they’re smiling and their eyes are so full of joy, your chest fills with pure fucking sunshine. And you know that you’d lie to, steal from, or slit the throat of any motherfucker who tried to hurt them or keep you from each other.” 

“Oh…” 

Party Poison slips an arm around Ghoul’s waist and pulls him closer. He rests his head on his shoulder and is quiet as he looks up at the sky. 

“The stars are so clear out here. I don’t think I’d ever even been able to see them within the city limits. It makes me think about if there’s more out there. If there’s a world other than this one. Sometimes, I want to shoot myself through the atmosphere just for the hell of it, see where I’d land if the sun’s radiation didn’t cook me alive first. But then I think about all I have here, all that I have to fight for and I think, maybe the moon can wait, you know?

“I guess that’s what love is- having something to stick around for. Having something to fight for.” He says it softly, his words just barely a whisper. Poison’s thumb is lightly grasping Ghoul’s chin when their lips softly meet. Poison’s lips are chapped and his mouth tastes like cherry lollipops and coming home. Of all the things that he isn’t sure how to feel, the press of those gentle lips against his is something that isn’t even a question. This closeness, this feeling, comes as naturally to him as breathing. 

Poison’s hands tangle themselves in his hair as his chest starts to ache and Ghoul pulls away gasping. They don’t say anything, they just look at each other, silhouetted by a backdrop of stars, panting yet hungry for more. Neither can tell how long they make out on the roof, but by the time they both pull away, Ghoul is covered in what remains of Poison’s (or Pony’s? He’s not even sure at this point…) lipstick and they’re both shivering uncontrollably. 

They end up tangled up in the back office Poison claimed as his own the second they’d made this place theirs. There’s a bare mattress on the floor covered in ratty, yet comfortable blankets. A shelf overflowing with old books and trinkets takes up space next to the bed, the walls are decorated with Poison’s art, cut-outs from magazines, and pictures he’d taken with an ancient Polaroid he’d paid way too much for before it ran out of photo paper. A string of battery powered fairy lights hangs above the wall over the bed and reflects in the plastic of the photos, allowing Ghoul to see them properly. 

Most of them are photos of Jet, Kobra, and Ghoul all messing around and making stupid faces. One photo in the center of the collection is of the three of them posing in front of the diner, guns drawn and masks on, all in dramatic poses. His favorite though, is of just him and Poison, both looking tired but happy and much younger than they really were. The flash of the camera had washed them both out, but Ghoul’s smiling face as Poison kissed his cheek could still be made out clearly. He can’t remember when that photo was taken, or if the two of them had even been sober enough to remember it. 

“I know it’s stupid to keep shit like this. It just gives you more to carry when you eventually have to leave again but I’ve been… getting comfortable, I guess,” Poison says as he sits down on the edge of the mattress. 

“It’s not stupid to try to make a wasteland feel like home,” Ghoul murmurs as he sits down beside him. It was the nature of being on the run to travel lightly and to never pick up anything you couldn’t easily carry with you. _The more we leave behind, the less we have to lug around with us,_ Poison was always reminding them. But was it so bad to want a place to feel safe in? To call your own? 

He thinks about Ghoul’s comment for a moment and then just smiles as he puts a hand to his cheek. “You make a wasteland feel like home,” he murmurs. 

And then they’re kissing again and before he can even react, Ghoul is on his back with Poison in his lap. They’re both exhausted so the kisses are sloppy but so sweet and so gentle. Eventually, Ghoul falls asleep tangled up with Party underneath the thin blanket. That night he sleeps soundly for the first time since he got to the desert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this started off as a one-shot that has quickly evolved into nearly 40 (FORTY) pages of gay nonsense. It's basically just all fluffy, slice-of-life type stuff full of my own headcanons and inspired by others I've seen on Tumblr that I started writing and couldn't stop.  
> It's in a rather different format than what I usually write and can be read like one-shots, though each chapter makes sense when read as a cohesive whole haha. Hope y'all enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

Ghoul starts getting used to sharing Poison’s bed and ultimately decides that it’s a step up from his usual sleeping-bag-on-the-floor arrangement. When he’s sleeping with Poison’s arms wrapped around his waist, his head resting in the crook of his shoulder, he falls into sleep easily. The occasional nightmare appears here and there but as soon as he starts to thrash, he’s being held tighter in those strong arms and lulled into a dream by that gentle voice whispering softly in his ear. 

Ghoul doesn’t expect things to change, but they do, slowly but surely. It starts with Poison stealing kisses when they get a few minutes alone, to holding hands underneath the table while hanging out with the rest of the crew. The most subtle change is Party’s mood. He used to be easily prone to bouts of anger, punching holes in walls or breaking dishes frequently. Kobra still has a scar on his thigh from accidentally getting caught in the crossfire one day. But now there’s a calmness to his usual chaos and a gentleness to his entire personality that wasn’t there before. 

Jet notices all of this but keeps it to himself. Kobra, on the other hand, confronts Ghoul one day while Party Poison it out on a raid with Cherri and Show Pony. He’s sitting in the diner, fiddling with a screwdriver as he tries to repair their broken radio. Kobra slides into the booth across from him and stares him down until he looks up.

“Oh, hey, Kid… Didn’t see you there. What’s up?”

“So how long have you been sleeping with my brother?” he asks, his tone and his expression flat, unreadable. 

Ghoul turns bright red and accidentally flings his tools across the room. “It’s not like th-“

“And don’t try to lie because I know you’ve been sharing a bed.” 

He only feels his face get hotter and suddenly his hands have become very interesting. “I don’t- We haven’t…” he sighs and meets Kobra’s eyes. “He helps me sleep. I haven’t been able to get more than four hours a night since I got to the Zones. He calms me down. Keeps me sane.” 

“So you’re…” 

“We’re not having sex, Kobra.” He makes a face and Ghoul laughs, reminded of just how young he really is. He tries not to be known as “Party Poison’s kid brother” by acting older than he is and Ghoul doesn’t exactly blame him. When you’re orphaned at the age of five and raised by your older brother who is still a child himself, it’s only natural to have to grow up quickly. They all had to. It also doesn’t help that Poison is well… Poison. He’s all chaos and hardly ever seems to think through the consequences of his bad decisions. He just lives by doing and asks questions later. Which isn’t exactly a bad thing out in the Zones but is extremely stressful when you’re the person who’s kept Poison from getting dusted for twenty years. 

“Okay, I’m- I’m sorry for gettin’ all weird, man. Party just has a really bad track record with guys…” Ghoul raises his eyebrows in agreement. It was impossible to name all of the guys Party had brought home but the ones that had stuck around… Well, they were pretty infamous. 

There was the guy with one eye who collected teeth, the tall man who never spoke or conveyed any emotion and never showed the face beneath his plague doctor style mask (but apparently “gave really good head!”), the guy who was convinced that every cactus was following him… The most normal guy Party Poison ever dated later turned out to be the leader of a cult who once tried to feed Jet to a pack of Vultures.

“I’m not going to hurt him, Kobra,” Ghoul murmured. “He’s one of the last good things this shithole hasn’t taken from me.” At that moment, Party came walking into the diner. His face lit up when he saw Ghoul and resisted the urge to kiss him “hello.” 

“Hey, it’s my two boys! What are you talkin’ about?” he says as he slides into the seat next to Kobra and ruffles his hair. 

Kobra, not skipping a beat, says, “Just how you’re a little bitch.” 

Party Poison feigns a look of offense. “That’s quite a blow to the guy who got you a hot date tonight!”

All the color immediately drains from Kobra’s face. “Party you didn’t…” 

“Oh come on, don’t act so incredibly enthused.” 

Kobra just glares at him. “I told you not to tell anyone about that.”

“Well, I was tired of watching you drool over them. They’ll be here in-“ Poison looks at his bare wrist, “now.” At that exact moment, Show Pony kicks the front door of the diner open, and lets it smack against the wall with a dramatic flourish. They stand in the doorway as they remove their helmet and shake out their long, dark hair. Even Ghoul who has never had any interest in Pony can’t help but stare. 

“Hey, Kobra,” they say with a smile and a wink, looking so incredibly cool as Kobra Kid himself is on the verge of both fainting and spontaneously combusting all at once.

Kobra opens and closes his mouth, completely unable to speak, his face turning a variety of different colors in the course of thrifty seconds. “Well, come on, Honey. Don’t leave a guy hanging,” Pony says in their silky smooth drawl, one of the only reminders that Texas had ever existed before it was destroyed in the Helium Wars. This, among many other things about Pony was guaranteed to make almost any man weak in the knees. 

Poison has to practically drag his brother out of the booth as he has forgotten how to use literally all of his limbs. He seems to regain his composure when he’s standing right in front of Pony and looks up at them with a goofy smile. “H-hey Pony. You look um… you look very good. Good um job with your- your face and stuff.” 

Ghoul shoots Party a questioning look on and he just rolls his eyes as if to say, “I know what I’m doing, trust me.” 

Much to Ghoul’s surprise, Pony laughs a real, eye crinkling, head thrown back laugh. “You’re such a doll. Now come on, meter’s running!” And with that, Pony grabbed Kobra’s hand and pulled him out of the diner. “I’ll have him back before the sun goes down, Boss!” they call as they give Party a dramatic salute and back out the door. 

Ghoul just looks at Party for an explanation and he shrugs. “What can I say? Love is in the air.” 

Ghoul snorts as he gets up to retrieve his tools. “Since when have you had any interest in playing matchmaker?” 

He rests his head on his hands and just looks up at Ghoul with big, love-filled eyes. “Dunno, something’s just gotten into me, I guess.” 

“Are you sure you’re not on the pills again?” Ghoul teases as he slides into the booth next to Poison. “Or are you coming down with something?” he puts a hand on Poison’s forehead, their faces getting closer and closer together. 

Poison closes the space between them and presses their lips together softly, sweetly. His mouth gently crests and falls against Ghoul’s before pulling away. 

“Whatever I got, you’ve got it, too. And you’ve got it bad,” he whispers against Ghoul’s lips. 

And well? He’s not wrong…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I did the "Character A has insomnia and can't sleep until they sleep with Character B" trope, fucking fight me. Also, Kobra is a precious bean who needs to be protected that is all.


	3. Chapter 3

Party Poison is driving too fast like he always does when Jet lets him borrow his bike and Fun Ghoul squeezes his waist tighter. This is the game they’ve been playing for years- Party moves too fast and Ghoul clings to him for dear life, desperate to hold onto him. It scares him, but they’ve all forgotten how to be safe. There’s no safety out here, only survival, only coping. The survival part is required, the rest? Optional. For Party, it was definitely optional. Like many others out in the Zones, this had turned him into quite the adrenaline junkie.

Ghoul thought it was so incredibly stupid. You fear death so you seek it out at every possible opportunity just to try to stick it to the universe and prove that you’re invincible? Stupid. So so stupid. It had been the subject of many of their fights, but Ghoul knew he was being a hypocrite. He’d done his fair share of idiotic, life-threatening things but that was before he’d had a crew, a family who needed him alive and not bleeding out alone in the desert after being shot by raiders or cornered by Dracs. 

The desert blurs past them, the fading sun painting the horizon vivid oranges, reds, and pinks. You can’t see the sun setting in the city where the buildings block out the sky. Ghoul remembers it, forces himself to recall every twisting corner, every alleyway, every sharp, monochrome detail. It’s a form of rebellion, forcing himself to remember everything because they had made him forget so much. He couldn’t remember his childhood, his parents, or any traces of his life before the war. They’d try to make him forget everything after it too, to drug him into submission. That’s when he started planning his escape. 

The memories come back in jagged fragments that don’t always make sense to him. The smell of lavender brings back flashes of soft, hazel eyes, the press of soft blue sweaters against his cheek, a woman’s laugh. He spent his entire first year in the Zones immobilized by his guilt and all he couldn’t remember. But Poison had assured him that they’d all gone through it, that he would remember eventually. The more time they spent together though, the weaker the desire was. Why did he want so badly to recover the old when there were so many new memories to cherish and cling to?

Party Poison’s voice breaks him from his thoughts as he parks the bike. “Ghoul? You good?” 

“Oh. Y-yeah...” Poison gets off the bike first and then offers a hand to help Ghoul off. He pulls Ghoul’s helmet from his head and sets it on the ground gently. 

Ghoul’s hair falls in his face in a nest of tangled strands and Party laughs as he smooths it back into place. “Even helmet hair looks sexy on you,” he says with a smile just before their lips meet.

Poison’s hands are cupping his face, holding him so gently, their kiss sloppy and so full of warmth. They’re so caught up in kissing that they don’t notice Jet waving them down from the door of the diner.

“Hey, lovebirds! Get your asses inside before you get dusted!” he calls. 

Poison just pulls Ghouls closer to him and flicks Jet off with the hand not wrapped around his lover’s waist, his hot palm pressed against his bare back beneath his shirt. They eventually peel themselves off of each other and sling the packs of supplies they’d gathered throughout the day over their shoulders. When they get inside, they drop the bags on the floor and collapse into a booth on top of each other. Jet grabs the packs and starts to sort through them.

“Thank God, you guys are back. I’ve been hiding out in the garage all day.”

Ghoul raises an eyebrow. “Why?” 

Jet sighs and gives them a pained look. “Loverboy finally hooked up with Show Pony. Like… over five times. Today.” 

Poison whistles and looks absolutely overjoyed. “Have they really been going at it all day?” A series of very loud, high pitched moans and the sound of rattling a few rooms over accompanies his question.

“For hours.” Jet says flatly, looking a little more dead inside than when they left this morning. 

“I’m honestly surprised this didn’t happen sooner,” Ghoul adds. 

Poison snorts. “You kiddin’ me? That boy couldn’t do anything but stammer and drool whenever Pony walked into the room. And Pony is well-”

“A massive slut?” Ghoul deadpans.

“Easily bored?” Jet chimes in

“Yes. And yes. But what I was going to say is that Pony is constantly surrounded by guys drooling over them, wanting to get their dicks wet. That’s not new and it’s definitely not interesting. They just needed to know that Kobra is down for well more than just that.” 

“So you meddled?” Jet gives him a hard look. 

“Well, duh! But it obviously worked out.” As if to emphasize his point, the rattling and thumping noises get louder. Party Poison just grins wider as Jet grimaces.

“You know Kobra isn’t going to talk to you for at least a month, right?” 

Poison waves a dismissive hand. “Whatever. I’ll take one for the team if it means my little brother gets to be happy.” 

“And you’re sure Pony isn’t just in this for the sex?” 

“Jet, hun. I know Pony. Very intimately. Mindless sex is fun for them but it’s boring. There’s so much more tension and fire when you’re fucking someone you give a shit about.” Ghoul blushes as his mind starts to wander, only half listening to their conversation. 

“So, let me guess. They got bored fucking you and moved on to your younger brother?” 

Poison just rolls his eyes at him. “Pony’s been in love with Kobra for years. They’ve been doing this whole “mutual gay pining from a distance thing” for like forever. It needed to end. Also, I was getting tired of hearing my own brother’s name whenever I was sucking Pony’s dick so.” 

Jet makes a disgusted face. “I don’t know why you think I’m even the slightest bit interested in hearing the details of your conquests, Party…” 

“Because you’re a prude who never gets any action since you’re no fun?”

“Right, okay, Mr. Runs-away-from-commitment-and-responsibility-at-every-chance-he-gets.”

Poison is trying to think of a good comeback when Kobra stumbles into the front of the diner wearing only his boxers, brown hair disheveled and hickies littering his neck, chest, and thighs. He doesn’t seem to notice them as he quickly rummages through the cupboards and is halfway through the kitchen with his arms full of soda and energy bars when he realizes that he’s being watched. 

“Oh um… hi guys.” 

Ghoul slips out of the room as Party begins to loudly congratulate his brother on getting laid (repeatedly in one day, too) and Jet starts a lecture about respecting other people by not having really loud obnoxious sex one room over and “Dear God go put on some clothes Kobra before I gouge my own eyes out with a rusty fork!”

Twenty minutes later, Party Poison finds Ghoul curled up on his mattress, draped in blankets with his long, dark hair spilling over the pillow, looking like an angel. Party shuts the door softly and goes to lay down next to him, trying not to move the mattress much. 

“I’m awake, you don’t need to be quiet,” Ghoul says with a sleepy smile.

“Long day, huh?” Poison asks softly as he wraps his arms around his waist and tangled their legs together. 

Ghoul hums in response. “Wasted most of my energy worrying about you.”

“Why? I wasn’t even being particularly suicidal today.” 

“You drive too fast. It scares me.”

“What? Come on, Ghoul. Everyone drives too fast out here.”

“But I don’t give a shit about everyone. I give a shit about you. I can’t lose you, Poison. I won’t.” Ghoul pulls him closer, wraps his arms tighter just to prove a point. 

Party Poison just sighs with a smile that Ghoul can’t see as he runs his hands through his hair. “Well, you’re not going to. I don’t have any plans to leave this world any time soon.” 

“Good because if you were dumb enough to get yourself dusted, I’d bring you back to life just to kick your ass and kill you again.”

Poison chuckles. “Go to sleep, Ghoulie.” He presses a kiss to his temple and they both drift off to sleep in each other’s arms.


	4. Four

They’re holding hands as they walk through the corpse of a building decimated by Better Living Industries “Clean-Up Crew.” Most of what used to be a shopping mall is rubble in the vague shape of a building, but there are still chunks of it left standing and have been for months. Kobra found it while on a joyride with Pony one day and mentioned it offhandedly to Poison, who immediately convinced Ghoul to take him there.

He knows it’s not safe to have his guard down like this, but Party just has that kind of effect on him. “Comfortable” is a dangerous word, out here being comfortable is what gets you captured or killed. But Ghoul needs moments like this, where Party is singing an old song softly to him, looking back at his face often and smiling, the light streaking down through the large craters in the ceiling and bathing him in sunbeams. It’s fucked up to find the destruction and the decay beautiful, but the way that nature has risen up to reclaim the rubble, plants growing up through the cracks in the foundation, it gives him hope though he isn’t sure why…

“To think, people used to just come here and buy shit for fun,” Poison said, almost in awe.

As they wander past a darkened arcade Ghoul smiles. “I wonder what it would’ve been like to go on a date here. To hold your boyfriend’s hand, eating pretzels the size of your head, and beg him to win you one of those stupid stuffed bears out of a claw machine…”

Poison stops walking and kisses Ghoul softly on the mouth in a way that makes him blush. “So are you saying that you want me to be your boyfriend?” he murmurs.

Ghoul makes a big show of shrugging as he wanders in the arcade. “I mean, we’re already halfway there. The next step is the teddy bear…”

They find the claw machine easily, although it’s full of dust and grime, it’s contents are intact and staring back through the clouded glass with dead plastic eyes as Ghoul shines his flashlight on them.

“Okay, stand back,” Poison says as he pulls his blaster out of the holster. He shoots at the glass and pulls Ghoul down with him as the beam ricochets against the back wall, frying an already sad looking arcade machine.

They’re laughing as they lay in a heap together on the carpet. Poison looks at Ghoul, pushes the hair out of his face, and his gaze is so gentle and full of love he feels like he just might burst with the force of it. Poison gets up slowly and reaches into the mangled mess of what used to be a claw machine and presents Ghoul with a slightly singed, cat plush.

He bends at the waist and holds it out in his hand dramatically. “For you, my love. I know it’s not a teddy bear but-“ Ghoul cuts him off by kissing him softly, the toy getting squished between their chests.

“Now come on, we have to finish our date!” Party says and he grabs Ghoul’s hand and drags him out into the remains of the mall. They spend the next few hours exploring, most of it spent making out in dark storefronts. They also pick up anything interesting that they find to bring back to base.

Pony is laying on the bar when they walk in, hand in hand, Kobra is staring up at his boyfriend adoringly and Jet is making gagging motions in the corner while Cherri laughs at him. “Hey, bitches we’re back! And we brought gifts!” Party exclaims, much to the excitement of everyone except for Kobra, who fixes his brother with an icy glare.

“My lovely assistant will do the honors,” Poison announces with an air of grandeur that makes Ghoul giggle as he pulls the gifts out of his bag, one at a time. For Jet they’d managed to find few cartridges for the old Game Boy that he’s playing almost as much as he’s running around trying to keep his friends from killing themselves and each other. He gives Kobra one of those keychains shaped like a lizard that has eyes that pop out when you squeeze it. He’s still not talking to him, but it’s obvious that he loves it. For Pony, Party had found yet another choker to add to their collection, this one a black collar with a metal heart in the middle.

Pony just grins wickedly when he hands it to them. “Can’t wait to use this,” he says, looking pointedly at Kobra.

“What? It’s just a choker…” Kobra replies. Jet just groans in the corner as Pony’s grin gets wider.

“Oh, you sweet baby boy. I have so much to teach you,” they say as they sit up and turn so he’s sitting directly in front of them. They’re already making out heavily when Jet shrieks and slams his palms down onto the table loudly.

“No sex in the kitchen, you heathens!” he shouts indignantly. Show Pony just giggles as they slide off the counter and drag Kobra away by the shirt collar. Pony winks at Party before disappearing into another room.

Jet glares at Party. “You’re a monster.”

He just shrugs as he pulls out the last item from the sack and sets it on the table in front of Cherri who just groans. “You didn’t…”

Poison and Ghoul just look at each other and grin from ear to ear. “This one was actually my idea. Because I know how much you and the Doctor love them.”

Cherri just stares at the bright blue Furby with its big black eyes and matted fur, staring at him soullessly. “Yeah, my dear darling husband loves them… But they always freaked me out. As a kid, my sister, June, had one and I would have nightmares constantly about that thing. And now I’m living with a man who has an entire shelf full of them in his office…”

“Hey, you might want to lower your voice, Cher. He can hear you, you know,” Ghoul teases and Cherri just flares at him some more.

“You never told me why Dr. D loves those things so much,” Jet muses as Cherri turns the toy around so it’s facing the wall and can no longer look at him.

Cherri rolls his eyes and chuckles fondly. “He never got to have one as a kid. His parents always told him they were a “girl” thing… D thinks of them as good luck charms because “they’re one of the few things that survived the complete breakdown of civilization and if they can make it out with only a few scratches and scorch marks then so can we.”

“That’s so like him, isn’t it?” Jet says with a laugh.

Cherri just nods. “I’m dreading the day that he finally manages to get enough batteries and parts together to get them all working again…” He shudders and looks off into the distance, imagining the horror.

After the four of them eat a dinner of BL/ind brand mush in a can (after Jet kicks Pony and Kobra out of the diner for fucking too loudly in the storage room… again), Poison drags Ghoul into the bathroom and instructs him to sit on the toilet as he opens one of the eight (8) boxes of hair dye they’d managed to find on their trip. Poison has done this before by himself many times but this is the first time Ghoul has ever been asked to sit in while he does it. He watches as Party slips on the gloves and starts to apply the mixture to his hair, carefully covering his roots. Ghoul has never seen what Poison’s hair looks like natural. When asked, Poison tells him that it’s light brown, just a shade darker than Kobra’s dirty blonde. Ghoul humors the thought of Poison with soft brown hair that falls around his face in long waves and kind of loves it. But he also thinks that the vibrancy, the shock of color, suits him so well.

“My mother’s hair was the same color as mine. She wore it long, in braids or in ponytails, always with flowers weaved into it. That’s one of the only things I can remember about her. That and how she used to sing in this gentle, angelic voice,” Poison says as he watches himself carefully in the mirror. “Kobra has her eyes- dark blue, like a summer thunderstorm.” His eyes are far away as Ghoul gets up to stand behind him and wrap his arms around his waist.

“You okay, Hun?” Ghoul asks softly and Party nods.

“Can you help me get the back?” Ghoul obliges happily and squirts a glob of red dye into his palm, uncaring if his skin is stained. There’s something so intimate about dying another person’s hair, Ghoul thinks, your fingers gently massaging their scalp and working the color through the thick strands. As the smell of the fruity scented dye starts to fill the room Ghoul instructs Party to turn around so he can touch up the sides and then they’re chest to chest.

“So… “boyfriend,” huh?” Ghoul says casually and Poison laughs.

“What, you having second thoughts?”

“No. Impossible. I just… I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to saying it,” he’s smiling like an absolute goofball and Poison just wants to keep him here, in this moment, so safe, so happy, so loved.

“Ghoul, I’ve been… thinking about today. And I’ve been imagining what it would be like to take you out on a real date, in a world where things like dates or anniversaries or even fucking trips to the grocery store still existed. And I know that I can’t give you normalcy or stability. Fuck, I can’t even promise you a future. I want to cut out all of the rotten parts and give you what’s left on a silver platter because you’re just too good for it and I-”

Ghoul just laughs softly, kisses Poison softly and then murmurs against his lips. “I couldn’t give a fuck about the world, I just want you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fell in love with this Furby headcanon that I cannot take credit for! All props go to crash-queens-and-motor-babies on Tumblr.
> 
> Also, want to clarify that Show Pony is nonbinary and the characters are not misgendering them by using words like "boyfriend" in reference to them. Nb people sometimes refer to themselves with gendered language but that doesn't make them any less nonbinary!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for mentions of minor violence and blood.

“Party, you have to let me cut it off,” Ghoul demands as the color continues to drain from Party Poison’s face with each passing second, the red puddle beneath him growing larger.

Poison just continues to struggle and shake his head, delirious from the pain, writhing beneath Ghoul’s hands. The bullet had grazed the side of his stomach, and left and large, gaping hole in his side. Ghoul isn’t sure who had given those Dracs a real gun, though he guesses that they’d probably looted it from some poor sucker’s body… 

It physically hurts him to watch Poison like this, crying out in agony, fighting Ghoul’s hands away because everything hurts, God, it hurts so fucking much. Ghoul has seen enough out in the Zones to know when a wound is fatal and this one definitely isn’t, thank Destroya. But he needs to get it bandaged before he will even think about trying to get Poison back into the car. And he can’t do that properly when Poison refuses to take off his goddamn binder. 

Ghoul tried to convince him to not wear it often because it limits his movements greatly and he needs his full range of movement and lung capacity if they ever have to get the fuck out of Dodge. But Poison is reckless and lives by his own rules, which is why Ghoul has to sit on top of him and pin him down as he tears through the fabric with his pocket knife. He sends a silent “thank you” to Jet for reminding him to pack a First Aid kit in the Trans Am as he presses a wad of bandages to the wound. 

Poison mutters something about being left out to rot and letting the buzzards eat his corpse as he waits for the Phoenix Witch to come take him. Ghoul rolls his eyes, “You’re not dying and I’m not leaving you out here to rot. You’re going to be just fine but only if you- Hold. Still.” 

At this Poison goes limp as just stares up at the orange desert sky, watching a flock of birds flying south as Ghoul sloppily bandages his wound. It’s only meant to be temporary and hold in the important stuff until Ghoul can get his boyfriend to Cherri in one piece. Once Party’s bullet wound is covered, Ghoul helps him sit up gently and slides the ruined fabric from his shoulders. 

“Don’twan’chutolookatmelikethis,” he mumbles and Ghoul just presses a kiss to his forehead.

“I won’t, Sunshine. Here,” he slips off his own shirt and helps Poison lift up his arms and slide it over his head. “Now you’re all covered.” 

Ghoul collects what’s left of Party’s bloody clothes and tosses them into one of their supply bags. It’s only a rumor that Dracs can actually track you by your blood but he doesn’t want to risk it… “Okay, now I’m going to have to move you to get you to the car okay? You’ve lost a lot of blood so I don’t want you to try to stand on your own just yet. I’m gonna lift you up and put you in the car but it’s probably going to hurt.”

Poison nods and Ghoul interprets this as an okay to go ahead. He picks him up slowly and carries him bridal style to the car where he places him gently in the front seat and buckles him in. He tries not to look at the quickly spreading red splotch beneath the bandages or the blood smeared all over his hands, arms and jeans. The engine roars to life and Ghoul speeds through the desert, gas pedal pressed to the floor as clouds of dust are left in their wake. 

Cherri must have heard the car tear into the drive of the station because he rushes out immediately and helps bring Poison inside. They have a very morbid routine, wherein Ghoul always brings the warm bodies and Cherri attempts to keep them that way. They often don’t talk about their lives before the Zones, before the War, but Cherri was an nurse, studying to be a doctor who played guitar in a band on the weekends when the world went to shit. 

“I’d always wanted to help people and couldn’t decide if the best way to do it was to fix their hearts or their bodies, so I tried to do both,” he told Ghoul once as they were lounging outside the sound booth while Dr. D recorded a broadcast. 

They lay Poison down on the cot in Cherri’s makeshift nurse’s office and Cherri gets to work as Ghoul sits down in a chair next to him. He removes the sloppy bandages and prepares to clean the wound. 

“This is going to sting,” he warns and Poison just laughs.

“Bet it won’t hurt asmuch as it did going in,” he muses and Cherri chuckles.

“You still have a sense of humor, that’s a good sign.” 

Ghoul grabs Poison’s hand as Cherri presses a cloth full of alcohol to the wound. Poison hisses and squeezes his hand slightly. “Okay, done. But it’s definitely going to need stitches.”

Poison groans and throws his free arms over his face. Ghoul doesn’t understand how the man who is constantly playing a game of chicken with death itself can possibly be afraid of something as silly and common as needles, but there are many things about him that can’t quite be understood. As Cherri sews up the wound, Poison grips Ghouls hand tightly, fingernails digging crescents into his palm. Poison stares at him the entire time, his green eyes wide and afraid. 

By the time Poison is all stitched up, the sun has set and Cherri refuses to let them travel in the dark, especially in Poison’s state. They leave Poison to rest on the cot while they prepare the pullout couch together. 

“So where’s the Good Doctor gone off to these days?” Ghoul asks.

“Oh, he’s off running the Zones with some of our buddies from Zone 5. They have another safe house they go to sometimes when he feels like the Scarecrows have zeroed in on his signal. He also hates being cooped up in here all the time, but it’s what’s safest.” 

“How do you sleep when he’s gone? Don’t you worry about him?” Ghoul asks as they pull the fitted sheet over the cushions.

Cherri laughs and glances down at the gold wedding band on his finger. They’d gotten married a year or two before the war. Cherri was busy with medical school and the Doctor was busy building his music career. Along with the rising political tension and their two very unsupportive families, it seemed like there was never going to be the right time. So they just decided to do it one day and not tell anyone. They’d had a short and sweet courthouse wedding, just the two of them in t-shirts and slacks. They were living together when the war started and went to battle together, side by side. When the Doctor was paralyzed from the waist down, Cherri was the one who took care of him.

They’d watched the fall of the old world and the rise of a new one, ruled by drugs and monsters, as Battery City rose up out of the ashes, promising hope and new beginnings. But this new world, just like the old one, had decided that it didn’t have a place for them or their love. So they ran away into the desert, determined to live out the rest of their lives together even if it meant that they had to fight like hell for it. 

“I usually don’t. Our bed is too big without him curled up with me. And I never stop worrying until the second he comes through that front door. He’s my sanity, the one tie I have left to the world before it combusted. I’d probably lose it without him.” 

“I know the feeling,” Ghoul says softly as he walks back to the office to help Poison up. He has some trouble standing but Ghoul just slides an arm around his waist and helps him lay down gently on the pullout. He fusses with Poison’s pillows and blankets for a few minutes as Poison rolls his eyes.

“Baby, I have a small flesh wound, not a broken leg. You don’t need to keep treating me like you’re going to break me.” 

“Well too fucking bad. This is what you get for being reckless and getting yourself shot in the first place, dumb shit,” he teases as he lays down on next to him and settles beneath the covers and let their legs intertwine.

Poison makes a pouty face that Ghoul quickly kisses away. “Stop acting like my dad, fuck face.” 

“Ah, young love,” Cherri says with a chuckle as he turns off the lights and plunges the room into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I made Party Poison a trans guy purely for my own enjoyment. I'm a queer trans guy who makes his stories as queer as possible and that is the rock I will die one. Also, I just really liked the idea of Cherri Cola being this wise, old gay dad-like figure who definitely wears nothing but old Hawaiian shirts.


	6. Chapter 6

“So, you and Poison, huh?” Show Pony asks the next day as Ghoul is bent over the open hood of Pony’s car. There was a slight issue with an old gasket that needs to be replaced and since Pony was the epitome of “Useless Gay Energy,” Ghoul had offered to help but is just waiting for the moment he is going to regret this kindness.

“Um… yeah. For quite a while now, actually. We just made it official a few months back but we’re not reall-“

“Fucking finally!” Pony exclaims, startling Ghoul and causing him to smack his head on the hood. “Shit, are you okay?” 

Ghoul just nods, rubbing his head. “Yeah, m’fine.”

“So…” Pony adds after a few moments of silence as they roll in circles around the car on their skates. “Have you and Poison fucked yet?” 

Ghoul drops his wrench within the bowels of the car and swears quietly to himself. “W-why do you need to know that?”

“Curiosity? Boredom? I don’t know,” they say as they spin in a very dramatic circle near the station entrance. 

“Okay…”

“So, have you?” 

Ghoul straightens and opens and closes his mouth for a while as a wife grin forms on Pony’s face. “You haven’t had you?”

Ghoul knows his blush gives him away and he just turns back to working on the car. “You know, there’s no shame in being a virgin, Ghoulie Boy.”

Ghoul scoffs. “Why did you just assume that?!”

Pony snorts, as if the answer is obvious. “Because Party Poison is like sex on a stick? And every Killjoy within a fifty-mile radius would kill to fuck him?” 

“I am not a virgin! And you don’t need to know the intimate details of my sex life with my boyfriend.” 

“Forgive me for being concerned that I’ve slept with your boyfriend more than you have.” 

If this conversation were happening with anyone else, they probably would’ve been flattened into the ground by now. But this is just the nature of their friendship, as odd as it is. Besides, Ghoul isn’t the type to get jealous, especially because he knows for certain that Pony is no longer sleeping with his boyfriend. 

“Thank you for being such a caring friend!” Ghoul exclaims sarcastically. 

“Don’t mention it! If you want, I can give you some pointers.”

“No thanks, dude.”

“Are you sure? Because I’ve seen and felt every angle of that man’s body in almost every position imaginable and I really-“

“I’m good, Pony!”

“You really don’t want to hear about how your man is in bed? Because he’s quite the lover, let me tell you.” 

Ghoul opens his mouth to respond but doesn’t say anything and hates to admit it, but he’s actually really curious… Pony takes his lack of response as permission to continue and says, “I thought it’d be impossible to find someone to match my sex drive but that boy could go for hours at a time. And he has this secret submissive side but also likes it super fucking rough.” 

Ghoul is getting redder and redder by the second, but Pony just keeps on going. “He loves it when you pull his hair and is the biggest fucking cumslut I’ve ever seen- next to Kobra anyway. Speaking of, how are two siblings both super hot, super kinky, and super good in bed? I mean, I’ve never fucked siblings before now but dear god, I would kill to be taken from both ends by those tw-“

“Okay! The car is fixed and I have to go shoot myself in the head! Bye!” 

Pony just starts cackling as Ghoul walks away. “You’ll thank me later! Trust me!” 

He nearly runs into Poison, who is standing on the porch of the station.

“Oh, h-hey, Baby! How are you feeling?” 

“Tired. Sore. But in one piece,” he says with a small smile. Ghoul kisses him softly as Pony rolls by wiggling their eyebrows. Poison’s back is turned so he can’t see Ghoul flicking them off.

Poison turns and Pony hits their breaks and comes to a stop right in front of him, as smooth and suave as ever. “Hey, Party. How ya doin’?”

“Oh better than ever, Baby,” Poison says with a smirk though his voice is hoarse and quiet.

“Cherri told me you got shot yesterday. Did you get to keep the bullet?”

Ghoul rolls his eyes. Priorities… Poison shakes his head but lifts up his- well, Ghoul’s- shirt slightly to show off his fresh stitches. “No, but I’m going to have a sick scar to add to the collection.” 

“Cool. Scars are sexy, so,” they quirk up an eyebrow and Poison grins.

“Watch it, Pony or my boyfriend might kick your ass.” Poison throws an arm around Ghoul’s waist and pulls him closer. 

Pony scoffs and crosses their arms, pretending to size Ghoul up. “I can take him.”

“I’d lay you flat with one fist and my eyes closed you fucking twink!” Ghoul exclaims with a grin as he looks at Pony’s thin frame.

Pony winks at him. “Only in my dreams, Baby.” 

Ghoul snorts as he starts to pull Poison towards his car. “Whatever, we’ll see you at home base, you faggot!” Ghoul calls as he starts the engine of the Trans Am. 

Poison is quiet during the ride back, drifting off every so often in the passenger seat only to wake up every few minutes and glance up at Ghoul or out at the desert blurring past them. Cherri had given him some more painkillers that morning and they’ve made him slightly drowsy. He’s in a dead sleep when they get back to the diner and Ghoul has to carry him up the front steps and kick the door open with his boot. Jet and Kobra are sitting in their usual booth when Ghoul enters.

He’d radioed Jet last night to let him know what had happened and where they were. Jet, reluctantly, had told Kobra who’d been a nervous wreck ever since. He rushes to Party’s side as soon as Ghoul comes in, a concerned expression on his face.

“How is he? Was it a big wound? Did it puncture anything? Did he need stitches? Is he going to be-“ 

“Kobra,” Ghoul says calmly. “He’s fine. I promised you I’d keep him safe and I never break promises, okay?” Kobra just nods and lets Ghoul take Poison to his room. There, Ghoul gently lays him on the mattress, covers him with a blanket, brushes the hair out of his face, and kisses his forehead. 

He’s so beautiful when he’s dreaming and vulnerable, unable to hide his softness through stupid jokes or silly grins. Ghoul lays there for the next hour or so, just watching him sleep, making sure that his chest continues to rise and fall.


	7. Chapter 7

The desert is always hot, but it’s the kind of heat one gets used to. Like the dust that settles as a permanent layer over the skin and the sand that seems to work it’s way into everything, being hot is just a fact of life when you’re living in the desert and the ozone layer is eating away at itself more and more each day. 

But today is especially hot for August and every plan the Killjoys had for the day was immediately canceled in favor of lying on the floor of the diner wearing nothing but their underwear passing around a tiny plastic fan with foam blades that Kobra had graciously stolen for them. It’s doing absolutely nothing but it’s the illusion that counts. Jet has become one with the tiles, his face pressed against them, eyes unblinking as sweat beads on his forehead. Kobra is crammed into a booth, legs pressed up to his chest, chin on his knees, eyes closed and unmoving. Ghoul feels like his skin is ready to peel off and slide onto the floor in one big, slimy mass. Poison is draped dramatically on top of a table wearing a sports bra and neon green booty shorts that have the word “nasty” printed on the ass in fancy script. It’s very distracting but Ghoul does his best pretend that he’s not staring at his boyfriend’s ass every five seconds...

Party’s red hair is pulled up into a high ponytail so it’s up and off of his neck and he’s humming to himself as he holds a comic up with one hand and traces his new scar with the other absentmindedly. Ghoul watches him fidget constantly, his brain running in slow motion, every action blurry and drawn out. After a few minutes, he hangs his head over the table and looks at Ghoul, watching him stare stoically ahead.

Ghoul manages a smile when Poison waggles his eyebrows. “Ghoulie, I’m boreddddd,” he whines and Ghoul just rolls his eyes.

“You’re always bored. It’s like one of your core personality traits.”

“But this time I can’t just drive over to Cherri’s and harass Pony because I’ll spontaneously combust. I can’t stand just sitting still and not doing anything.”

Of course, he can’t, Ghoul muses. Party is always fidgeting, always moving. He’s incapable of sitting still and staying in one place, doing one thing, or being with one person too long. It’s what makes him so exciting and so insufferable to be around. So that’s how Ghoul ends up crammed into the booth as his boyfriend brushes out his long dark hair and hums along to one of the tapes they stuck in their boombox. 

Party Poison was always going on about how much he loved Ghoul’s hair and played with it often, whether he was running his hands through it or twirling strands of it around his fingers. Poison is currently working shaping Ghoul’s bangs into a tiny braid that he would eventually pull back with the rest of his hair and into a ponytail.

Party shrugs and changes the subject quickly... “You know… you look so cute with your hair up, Sugar. You should let me do this more often.” 

Ghoul chuckles. “You just want someone to be your dress up doll!” 

“When you agreed to be my boyfriend, you agreed to let me give you makeovers periodically.” 

Ghoul groans and Poison just chuckles and kisses his neck softly. “It’s your fault for being so fucking pretty!” Poison exclaims. 

“You just have a thing for guys wearing skirts…” 

“You’re not… wrong…” Ghoul replies as he twists around to kiss him properly.

Ghoul lets Party mess with his hair until he gets bored and they fall asleep in the booth together. When Ghoul wakes up, the sun has set and he’s alone in the diner. He can hear Party humming from his room, where the light is streaming out through the crack in the door. He gets up out of the booth and wanders over, knocking on the frame before letting himself in. 

Poison’s back is to him as he puts on lipgloss in the mirror. He’s wearing the red, silk dress that Ghoul loves so much on him, with a leather jacket, ripped tights, combat boots and a strip of black ribbon around his neck. “Hey, Babe! Didn’t want to wake you but everyone’s at a party down in Zone 5? Jet drove Pony and Kobra because he volunteered to be the DD again. I stayed back to get dolled up.”

“Everyone really needed to get out tonight, huh?” Ghoul asks as he leans against the door frame.

Poison nods and smacks his lips together. “Yeah, I need to get out and dance until I can’t feel my feet or emotions anymore.” 

“That’s not healthy…”

He scoffs in response. “Health and wellness is for pill-heads and Draculoids, Baby.”

“So… am I invited?” 

Poison laughs then hesitates and gives him a look. “Are you serious?”

“Well… Yeah. S’why I asked.”

“But you hate parties.”

“Yeah, but I like you. And if it means I get to see more of you in this dress then I won’t complain. Besides, I need to get out, too. I promise I won’t be a total drag this time.”

Poison but his lip, barely containing his excitement, as he contemplated something. “Okay, you can come with. But on one condition…”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“I get to pick out your clothes.” 

And that’s how Fun Ghoul ended up in a black leather mini skirt with fishnet stockings, a sparkly gray bralette beneath a lilac colored jacket, bright yellow boots, with so much glitter on his face he probably glowed in the dark. 

“Twirl for me,” Poison demands with a grin when he’s finished and though Ghoul has never done this before and should feel embarrassed, he feels… lighter, his chest full of an emotion he can’t really describe as he does a full spin for Party who catches him in his arms, mid-twirl. He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the full-length mirror on the floor and almost doesn’t recognize it.

“Don’t you look amazing?”

“I-I don’t even look like myself.”

Poison giggles. “You do. Just a brighter version.” 

“I can’t… I don’t know what this feeling is. I can’t describe it. I look at myself and I’m so soft and sparkly and I just want to keep staring and-“

“Pretty,” Poison interrupts with a smile.

“Hmm?”

“The word you’re looking for, Hun. You feel pretty,” he says softly.

He repeats it in his heads and laughs. Pretty. He never knew that this is what it felt like, never considered it was something he could ever be. Sure, he was familiar with the word. He called Poison it all the time but never thought he could apply it to himself and now… he felt an incredible surge of joy, an overwhelming, giddy feeling that wasn’t going away no matter how many times he twirled around in his boyfriend’s skirt.

Poison laughs, laces their fingers together and pulls him through the doorway. “C’mon, let's go show you off, Darling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally wrote an entire chapter based around these SICK ass drawings of Party Poison done by virtuevalentine on Tumblr: https://virtuevalentine.tumblr.com/post/182433036123


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for violence and homophobic/transphobic language!

This party is all the way out at the edge of Zone 5, where Ghoul hasn’t been in years. The further you get away from the city the more desolate the landscape becomes. But apparently, it’s a great place for parties and virtually nothing else because the Dracs hardly ever bother going past Zone 4. As much as they all hated the city, it was the only immediate source of supplies. Not to mention that the weather got harsher the further into the desert you went. Dust storms, sweltering heat, and acid rain so strong it could eat through your skin were common in the other Zones, but once you got out to 5 and beyond, it was almost nonstop. And if the weather didn’t kill you first, you’d be eaten by mutated desert creatures or stabbed to death by radiation junkies. To stay out here for too long, especially on your own, was basically a suicide mission. Ghoul rambles all of this to Poison as they drive out into the desert

“Ghoulie, you’re starting to sound like Jet,” Poison’s voice hardly heard over the roar of the engine and the crunch of gravel beneath the tires. The sun is setting, glowing dimly in the distance like a lightbulb that really needs to be changed. The sunsets this far into the Zones look like an acid trip- bright pinks streaked with strips of purples and greens. It’s beautiful, but in a very disturbing way that’s almost difficult to look at, like everything else out here. 

“I’m really surprised he agreed to even come out here…”

Poison chuckles. “Well, he’s didn’t really agree, so much as he was blackmailed.” Ghoul raises an eyebrow in question. “Pony chugged half a bottle of vodka in one sitting and then threatened to drive.” 

“Sounds about right.” Ghoul watches as the glow of a bonfire crackles in the distance, the blurry outlines of bodies quickly coming into focus as they drive closer. The music is so loud it rattles the windows of the Trans Am and dozens of bodies, all decked out in glitter and neon are writhing in sync as Party parks the car.

Ghoul’s confidence is starting to quickly fade when Poison puts a hand on his knee and says his name softly. “Hey, are you sure you want to do this?”

No, not at all. But he’s already out and all dressed up. Besides, Poison is here to keep him company and guide him through the hard parts of social interaction. He nods firmly and Poison just smiles softly and kisses his forehead. “Okay, pretty boy. Let’s rock and roll, then.” 

Party holds the car door open for him and Ghoul laughs as he climbs out and grabs his hand, twining their fingers together. As they enter the crowd, heads start to turn. Poison is used to this but Ghoul isn’t and it’s a little overwhelming, having all these eyes on him. But then he looks at him and the world is muted save for his colors. 

Party Poison pulls Ghoul to an empty spot on the dance floor, ignoring the prying eyes and invasive whispers. People have always stared at him and he knows it, loves the attention and relishes in it. He likes to be gossiped about, made out to be a god for a night where everyone wants him but can’t have him. 

Ghoul has never been a dancer. He’s too self-conscious and doesn’t like the hyper-awareness that comes with it. But tonight he feels like a different person, like the kind of guy that actually wants to go to parties and participate in (what’s left of) society. Also, it’s a good excuse to stay close to Poison, who is in his own world now, has his head thrown back and arms moving with the rhythm, his entire body rolling and falling back against the beat. He glows in the firelight, the flames dancing over his face, reflecting in the metal buttons on his jacket. 

When the song ends, Party’s skin is slick and shiny with sweat and he grins at Ghoul as he tugs him away from the crowd. “Gonna go find Kobra and Jet. Make sure they’re not fucking dead.” 

He follows him happily as he weaves through the crowd, waving or shouting hellos to the people he “knows.” “I don’t come out here very often so I don’t know half of these guys,” he confesses with a laugh. “But if I do know them, I probably don’t remember it. You only come out to Zone 5 if you want to get completely obliterated.” 

They find Jet sitting alone by the fire on an overturned milk crate, nursing something bright green in a glass bottle. He seems relieved to see them and waves wearily. “Hey, Jet! You having fun?”

He rolls his eyes. “Fun is a very strong word… I’ve been doing my best to babysit and also keep my distance.” Jet jerks his thumb over to where Pony has Kobra pinned up against the hood of their car, their hand in his jeans as the two of them make out sloppily. He takes a swig from his bottle and then looks up in shock, finally noticing Ghoul standing beside Party, all decked out.

“Damn! You look hot! Since when did that happen?” 

Ghoul flares at him and punches his shoulder a little too hard. “Hey! It was a compliment you fuckin’ bastard!” 

“I gave him a makeover. Isn’t he just darling?” Party says with a goofy giggle, making eyes at Ghoul as they both sit down on the empty crates next to Jet. 

Jet makes a retching noise. “I can’t handle all of this gay, mushy nonsense all the time. If it’s not you then it’s Kobra…”

“Well, if you want, you can join in the fun. I’m always down for a threesome, aren’t you Ghoulie?” he teases, looking at his boyfriend with big eyes and a smirk. Ghoul hates that he turns bright red.

“Yeah, no thanks. I’m not really into sex. And I’m _especially_ not into sex with unstable train wrecks.”

Poison makes a face of mock offense just as Pony saunters over and sits in his lap. He laughs and wraps his arms around their waist. “Whatcha doin’, Pony? Trying to make your boyfriend jealous?” 

They laugh and throw their head back against Poison’s shoulder. “Honestly, it’d be kinda hot to have two guys fighting over me…”

“Right, because that’s _never_ happened to you before.”

“But you two are siblings, that makes it hotter, adds more drama.”

“And we all know you get off on that,” Poison says, ruffling their hair fondly.

“Speaking of drama…” Pony lowers their voice. “Your ex-boyfriend is here, asking around about you.”

“Yeah? Which one? It’s not the guy who’s convinced he’s a vampire, is it?”

 

“God, I wish. It’s Vic Valentine.”

Poison’s smirk slips as the color drains from his face. He definitely remembers this one. “I didn’t even know he was still alive. Thought that asshole would’ve gotten himself dusted by now.” 

“Apparently he’s been living in a hovel by himself in Zone 6 or something? He tried to strike up a conversation to me but I make a rule not to talk to lil’ bitches. ‘Sides, if I had to look at his stupid fucking face for more than two seconds I was going to end up fighting him and this dress is _way_ too cute for blood stains.” 

Kobra comes back looking annoyed and holding two drinks, one of which he gives to his boyfriend. “Here you go, Babe. Sorry, it took me so long,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

“Did that dickhead harass you, too?” Poison says incredulously.

“Yeah, he was asking me all these weird questions about you. How you were doing, where you were, what your new boyfriend was like. I told him I’d kick his ass if he came anywhere hear you.” 

Poison giggles at his little brother’s overprotectiveness as he grabs Jet’s bottle from his hand and takes a swig, much to his protest. 

“Ew! What the hell is this shit?” 

“It’s soda, you dumbass. I’m driving home. That’s the whole reason I’m here.” Poison sticks his tongue out at him.

“So who is this Vic guy, anyway? You’ve never told me about him,” Ghoul asks quietly as Pony claims Kobra as their seat and Party gets up to sit in his boyfriend’s lap. 

Poison rolls his eyes. “One of the only guys I seriously dated for a while. He was always super possessive and controlling. Wouldn’t let me talk to certain people or go out without him. He also had absolutely no sense of boundaries, was constantly forcing me to do stuff with him and was always making really weird comments about my body. When I broke up with him he started telling everyone in the Zones very intimate details about our sex life, and suddenly I became the “weird tranny freak” who’d tricked him into sleeping with me. As if his penis just happened to accidentally fall into my vagina multiple times.” He’s fuming now and Ghoul just wraps a protective arm around his waist.

“Pony and I can go kick his ass again, Party. Clearly, he didn’t learn his goddamned lesson the first time,” Jet says with that fire in his eyes that always comes out when someone fucks with one of his brothers. 

“Thank you, Jet. I appreciate the chivalry, but I’m not going to let it bother me. He wants to make me upset so he can have some sick sense of control back but he’s not gonna get it. Come on Ghoulie let’s go dance!” 

Ghoul lets himself be pulled back on the dance floor as the song changes, to something abrasive and electronic. It’s the kind of thing that they’d play at a bar or a strip club, he thinks. It’s way too loud and kind of terrible, but when Poison pulls him in by the corners of his jacket, hips, mouths crashing together as they grind against each other, he decides it’s his new favorite song. He’s watched his boyfriend do this with other guys before, but never like this. He feels like he’s being marked, being claimed as Poison’s hands move down to cup his ass under the skirt he’s wearing. 

Party knows the effect he’s having on Ghoul and he grins mischievously as he bites his boyfriend’s lip, moving his hips closer and shamelessly dry humping him in the middle of the crowd. They make out sloppily, the kisses getting dirtier by the minute. After a few more songs, Ghoul offers to go get them drinks as he catches his breath. Party just pouts but kisses his forehead and tells him to hurry back, then returns to dancing. 

Ghoul is rummaging through a metal tin full of glass bottles and cans when he feels a presence come up next to him. He moves over to let the person have better access to the drinks, but they don’t move. When he stands up, he finds a scarily tall man staring at him.

The man flicks his dark red hair over his shoulder as he observes Ghoul cooly with one intense dark eye, the other covered with a worn eyepatch. When Ghoul makes eye contact with him, the man’s lips twist into a smirk. The scar that runs from the edge of his mouth down his neck makes what was probably an innocent gesture look sinister. And it takes Ghoul about five seconds to realize that this is the guy Poison was talking about. 

“So, you’re the new guy keeping Party Poison’s bed warm, huh?” 

Ghoul narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything. “You’re awfully pretty but if I know Party you’re either fucking insane or you’ve got a huge fucking cock.” 

Ghoul hates himself for blushing at that, but his face is already red from dancing so he hopes it’s not as obvious. “Well, I have no idea what he saw in you then, dickhead” he deadpans.

Vic puts a hand to his heart in faux offense. “Damn, you’re feisty! You must be real good in bed. Tell me, does Party still like being fucked like a woman or has he started taking it up the ass?” 

Ghoul’s hands ball up into fists at his sides. “Well, wouldn’t you like to know? Clearly, you haven’t been getting any action, since you spend all of your time harassing people into talking about their sex lives in order to get your rocks off like some kind of socially inept weirdo.” Ghoul maintains his flat tone and neutral expression as he pops the caps off of two bottles with his pocket knife. 

Valentine just chuckles and takes a step towards Ghoul, obviously trying to intimidate him. This guy has a few feet on him but that’s all he has. He’s gaunt and scrawny and Ghoul is already planning all the ways he’s going to bash his stupid fucking face in before he gives him a good reason.

“Right, if I remember anything about Party Poison it’s that you don’t get a sex life. He walks around in those short skirts and tight pants just to tease you but the minute you try to take them off, he’s like a chaste little school girl. It’s tragic really. He- she’s got such a nice body. For a trann-“ 

_And there it is!_ There really is not a feeling more satisfying than beating the absolute shit out of someone who deserves it, Ghoul decides as he tackles Valentine to the ground and starts punching that stupid fucking smirk off of his face. He manages to get a few good blows to Ghoul’s jaw and actually gives him a bloody nose. But this guy doesn’t have a chance against him but doesn’t want anyone else to know that. So he squirms and he manages to spit out a few nasty words just as a crowd starts to gather. It’s not a good party without one bloody fist fight or five, after all.

Ghoul pins Valentine down with one knee and he’s pinned to the ground with no chance of escape as Ghoul kicks his ass. He’s not talking anymore, surprisingly, when Ghoul stops hitting him as he applies more weight to his chest. One large hand wraps around his neck and he squeezes. Hard. Not enough to kill him, but enough to make him think that he’s going to. 

With his hand wrapped around Valentine’s neck, Ghoul growls, “You leave my boyfriend and our crew alone, and keep his name out of your fucking mouth, you understand? Gossip travels fast around here so I’ll always find out. And when I do, I will not hesitate to hunt you down and make you _beg_ me to slit your fucking throat.” 

He looks eyes with Poison who is standing at the edge of the crowd as he drives the toe of his boot into Valentine’s ribs. He’s coughing blood up into the dirt as Ghoul walks over to his boyfriend and wraps an arm around his waist. They both head to the car, not saying anything. All of the fun feels like it’s been sucked out of their night and Ghoul is suddenly really tired. 

Poison is quiet until they’re at the car and he pins Ghoul up against the side and starts feverishly making out with him. 

“God, that was so fucking hot,” he breathes against Ghoul’s mouth. He’s suddenly hyper-aware of every touch- Poison’s hands on his waist, his thigh between his legs, his lips on his neck. “I didn’t even know you could do that.” 

“What, you think I just stand around and look pretty?” He says with a smile. 

“Usually, yeah!”

“Anyway I- I’m sorry I lost it back there. It’s not usually like me to start shit but that guy was just- just vile.” 

“Yeah, that’s kind of Vic’s whole thing...” 

“Are you like… okay? I know how it can be when you see an ex after a long time. Especially when they’re like that.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Poison says dismissively as he crashes their mouths together again. They make out against the car for a few minutes before they pull back, panting. 

“You’re deflecting, again,” Ghoul says once he catches his breath.

“Am not,” Party protests as he promptly starts to attack Ghoul’s neck. His mouth is always so soft and he knows just what to do to make Ghoul’s knees buckle. But he knows a distraction when he sees one.

“Poison, tell me what’s up with you,” he says firmly.

“Fine… Ghoulie, I want you to fuck me,” Party Poison says.

Ghoul manages to make a strangled choking sound before an actual coherent sentence can formulate on his tongue. “Seriously?! Here? In the car?” 

Poison bites his lip and shakes his head. “ _On_ the car.” 

He doesn’t want to admit it but he seriously contemplates it for a second. Party’s all flushed and sweaty from dancing, his hair pulled back and his eyes all wild. He’s beautiful, the kind of beautiful that makes Ghoul’s chest hurt. And he can’t lie and say that he hasn’t thought about sex with Party. (Constantly, in many different positions). But he loves this boy goddammit and he’s a fucking sap for him, even if he would never say that out loud. 

Poison is trying to undo Ghoul’s belt buckle when he’s lifted up and sets him on the hood of the car. “Oh, we’re gonna play rough now, huh?” Party asks with a sexy smirk, spreading his legs a little too far so Ghoul can see up his skirt. Ghoul just looks at his boyfriend sternly.

“I’m seriously worried about you, Party. Please just tell me what’s on your mind.”

Ghoul puts a gentle hand on his face and Party just sighs and smiles sadly, giving in. “Every time I see him, I try not to let him get to me and I- I don’t. He can’t hurt me anymore. He can’t have that power over me, I won’t give it to him. But he always goes after the people I care about now. And it… it makes me feel sick to my stomach to think that you guys have to deal with this creep because of me and I-“ he sighs again. “I also was thinking about how much he fucked up intimacy for me. I haven’t been with anyone since Vic and even though I joke and stuff I… I’m actually really scared.” 

“So you hide this behind the guise of promiscuity?” Ghoul infers though it’s more of a statement than a question.

“Thank you, Doctor Ghoul,” Poison teases as he kisses him softly.

“You know I… I don’t give a shit about the physical stuff. I want it, sure. But if you never want to have sex with me, I won’t complain. I just want you, I couldn’t care less about all that other shit.”

“Oh, I am definitely having sex with you just… not right now. You’re right I- I need to stop relying on it as a coping mechanism. Because I’m…” He sighs and concludes in a monotone voice: “worth more than that. Or _whatever.”_

Ghoul smiles. “Good.” After a beat, he adds, “On a less serious note, were you serious about fucking on the car? Because I’m very much Not Against That.” 

Party just giggles against his boyfriend’s mouth as Ghoul smoothes his dress down so it’s covering his legs properly. “I love you, Ghoulie,” he says softly.

“I love you, too, Baby.”

“Also, it’s probably better that we didn’t have sex because I don’t have any condoms anyways.” Ghoul just laughs against his shoulder, so full of love he’s drunk on it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: This chapter is just porn. It’s literally a quickie that actually has plot relevance and is not just me being thirsty. Anyways, sexual tension abounds! Enjoy!

The minute Poison leaves the diner to go hang out with Show Pony, Ghoul locks the door to their room and collapses onto the mattress. He’d been teasing him relentlessly today, all dolled up in one of those super short skirts and a crop top, “accidentally” bending over in front of him to show off the black lace of the panties he was wearing underneath. Similar incidents had been happening for weeks, with Poison getting him all riled up just to saunter away with a satisfied smirk on his face. Sometimes it was more subtle, like when Poison would run his hand up Ghoul’s thigh when they were sitting next to each other in one of the booths at the diner or Poison “accidentally” brushed past Ghoul and got way too close than necessary, pressing their bodies together. 

There is a lot of emotional baggage attached to sex for Ghoul and he knows this. Party has baggage too, but neither of them are brave enough to talk about it. So they’re doing this dance constantly, of getting close but not nearly close enough. Every time they’re making out and things start to get heavy, one of them always makes an excuse or pulls away. But it’s getting to the point where Ghoul is turned on all the time, rushing away to take care of the problem before Kobra or Jet can notice and make fun of him. 

This is one of those instances, where Ghoul’s entire body feels like it’s on fire. His skin is crawling with the desire to touch, to be touched. He quickly kicks off his jeans and boxers, leaving himself naked from the waist down. When he finally touches himself, his head rolls back at the contact. He starts thinking about Poison as his hand slides up and down, thumb sliding over the tip as a shaky moan falls from his lips.

The image of Poison in that plaid skirt, smirking at Ghoul over his shoulder as he bends over, his thighs on full display- it won’t leave his mind. He thinks about his porcelain skin and how good it would look covered with bruises in the shape of Ghoul’s mouth. Or how perfect Poison’s pretty mouth would look moaning his name or wrapped around him. He starts to quicken his rhythm as he thinks about holding Poison’s ass in his hands, leaving red marks all over it, spreading it apart as he slips inside him. 

He fantasizes about fucking Poison as he spreads his precome down his shaft, thinks about pushing into him and feeling that tight, wet heat all around him as his lover pulsates against him. Ghoul thinks about Poison riding him, slowly rising and falling in his lap, burying his cock deep inside as his movements quicken and the room is filled with the sound of his moans and skin hitting against skin.  
He even imagines Poison taking him from behind all the while as he’s begging for it, obscenities spilling from his lips, mixed with Ghoul’s name. The urge to to feel Poison’s body in every way, from every position imaginable is suddenly overwhelming. As Ghoul gets closer to climaxing, though, he thinks about his boyfriend’s flushed cheeks and his messy red hair as he nears the edge, sweet praises replacing the dirty talk, the lazy smile that rests on his face after he’s all fucked-out. 

It’s the thought of Poison lying beneath him, saying “I love you” as the beating of their hearts slows together, the frantic rhythm reverberating against the other’s chest that leads him to his climax. He comes on his stomach, hot streaks splashing against his skin in a way that manages to just turn him on more. As he rides out his orgasm, Ghoul moans Poison’s name with one hand gripping the sheets tightly.

“Damn, I really need to get laid,” he thinks as he falls back against the pillows, still catching his breath.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys talk about their feelings and Cherri finally gets to eat a Twinkie after ten years.

Birthdays are yet another thing that became obsolete after the crumbling of society. Most people never knew the day that they were born because most didn’t even know their parents. If you were one of the ones who was lucky enough not to have lost them to war, disease, or “reeducation programs,” any sort of celebration was strictly prohibited out of fear that it might produce any sort of intense emotion. To be nameless and ageless left a person a blank slate that was easy to manipulate and control.

Ultimately it was Party Poison’s idea to start celebrating their birthdays, even though none of them knew that exact day that they were actually born. Surviving another year was something to be celebrated, especially when tomorrow was never guaranteed. Poison was about four years old when Kobra was born, so he doesn’t remember the exact day, but he can recall that it was spring. Their father had picked their mother fresh wildflowers and they had been sitting in a vase next to her hospital bed when Kobra was born. The desert never really had any color, but it did turn slightly less brown in the spring, with flecks of green dotting the landscape. 

So when the color starts to return to the bloated wasteland, they celebrate everyone’s birthday. This year, Poison has managed to make decorations out of old newspapers, stringing up paper chains and snowflakes from the ceiling and is bustling around the diner in a frenzy when Ghoul and Jet walk in with their arms full of supplies.

Kobra is sitting in the corner, grumpily constructing a paper chain against his will and shooting glares at his brother. “Aw, come on Kobra! Cheer up! It’s your birthday!” Jet says, ruffling his hair and making him even more agitated than before.

“This whole thing is fucking stupid! It’s not my birthday. We don’t even know when I was born. I could’ve been born out of a freakin’ test tube for all I know!”

Poison clucks his tongue at him. “Well, too fucking bad. It’s a family tradition now and you can’t get out of it. Besides, I know you were born in April, Kobra, I was there you dunce cap.”

“Well, are you completely sure he wasn’t a test tube baby, Party? It’d explain a lot,” Jet chides. Kobra punches his arm with far too much force in response.

“Whatever,” Kobra mumbles as he goes back to making his chain while Jet rubs his arm and winces in pain. Ghoul finishes unloading the boxes of supplies on the counter and hops up onto the counter next to where Party is standing on the ladder, hanging decorations. Ghoul pecks him on the lips and as Poison laughs, his chest is flooded with the feeling of coming home. 

“It’s so weird not having to bend down to kiss you,” Poison teases and Ghoul rolls his eyes. 

“Bully.”

“You love me.”

Ghoul sighs. “I do… I guess.” 

The radio is playing one of Poison’s old tapes softly in the background as they decorate the diner. Although it’s a little extravagant for a party of seven, Party Poison insists that it’s necessary. Ghoul can’t quite decide if this is because of Party’s dedication or his desire to cover everything in glitter. Either way, he enjoys the way Party is glowing right now as he lovingly fills their space with color.

“So, Hot Stuff, how old are we this year?” Ghoul asks as Party chuckles. 

They truly have no idea who’s exactly older than who. They know that Jet is the oldest and Kobra the youngest, but Ghoul and Party fell in the middle and just decided one day that they were the same age. They remember a lot of the same things, although Party left the city before Ghoul did, they had actually lived in the same orphanage for a while, but they didn’t know each other at the time.

“Realistically? Or the age you want to be?” He just shrugs. “Well, you’re not a day over eighteen then, Babe.” 

“Well, if we’re going by looks you have the face of a thirty five year old man on a twenty-something’s body,” Poison says as he moves further up the latter so Ghoul can’t punch him. 

“So you have fucked, then,” Kobra retorts from his booth.

Poison rolls his eyes so hard only the whites show for a few seconds. “He’s literally my boyfriend, Kobra. Why are you acting like this is a secret?” 

“Because you wouldn’t be such a little bitch all of the time if you were actually getting laid,” Kobra spits. Ghoul’s face turns red and he just looks down at his hands. He’s intentionally trying to start something but he’s not exactly… wrong. Poison has been doing a lot of stomping and huffing around lately, throwing things at walls and yelling at the other Killjoys over small, stupid shit. The only reason they agreed to let him completely take over the party planning this time was that he’d finally seemed to be in a good mood for a change.

Party Poison gets down from his ladder to grab more things from the counter where Ghoul is sitting. “Jesus, Kobra, you lose your virginity and you suddenly care about my sex life?” 

Kobra turns bright red and stands up abruptly. “What the fuck?! You said you wouldn’t tell anyone about that, you fucking cocksucker!”

Party just laughs mockingly. “Oh trust me honey, everybody knew. You practically had a glowing neon sign on your forehead that said ‘virgin.’” 

“Well, at least my boyfriend actually wants to fuck me!” 

Party’s grin falters and his face turns about as red as his hair. Usually this is about the tome where a fight would break out and Kobra would get his nose broken (again). But Party just goes quiet and is staring at the counter, unblinking for a few seconds before he walks off to his room and shuts the door. 

Jet and Ghoul just look at Kobra with cool gazes. “That was extremely uncalled for,” Jet says in his “Dad Voice” that he only breaks out when they’ve clearly fucked up. Ghoul doesn’t stay to hear the lecture, though, and immediately walks over to Party’s room. He knocks on the door softly. 

“Hey, Baby, it’s just me. Can I come in?” 

He hears a weak reply of “Yeah” through the wood and opens the door gently. When Ghoul comes in, Party is curled up on the mattress, staring at the wall.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, m’fine. He always gets like this when do the whole birthday thing. It brings up old traumas and shit that he really needs to deal with but isn’t. He was old enough to remember when our parents died but not the way the world used to be. He- he thinks that this- this wasteland- is all there is and it’s not! I want to give him a life. That’s why we came out here in the first place. And it just… it hurts when he refuses to let me.” 

Ghoul lays down and curls up beside him, presses a kiss to his cheek. “That’s not what you’re upset about, though.” 

Poison sighs loudly. “No… It’s not.” 

“So… do we finally need to talk about it?”

“Yeah…” He rolls over so he’s facing Ghoul, chest to chest, nose to nose. They kiss softly and when they pull apart, Poison smiles and sighs softly. “You know I… I never thought I would ever have to have the Sex Talk with any guy I was with. ‘Cause… no other guy has been on your level.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Don’t sound so surprised,” he teases and wraps his arms around Ghoul’s waist. “You are, without a doubt, the only person I’ve ever been serious about. All those other people I was with were merely there to fill a space. Sometimes it was a literal physical space-“

“In your bed you mean?”

He sighs. “If you’re trying to politely call me a whore-“

“You called yourself a whore!” Ghoul exclaims.

“Anyway- I was saying, I’ve never really been with someone who has wanted me for everything that I am, not just for my body. With you, the connection is deeper and it… it freaks me the fuck out because I’ve never felt this way about someone before and I- I’m-“ he mumbles something that Ghoul can’t make out.

“Hmm? What was that, Baby?”

Poison mumbles it again, his face reddening. “Still can’t hear you, Party.”

He sighs and says, “I’m… nervous to have sex with you.” 

Ghoul’s heart swells and he cups his boyfriend’s face in his hands. “Seriously? You? Nervous?”

“I know. It’s a new thing for me and I hate it… But I- I’ve realized lately that I’ve never been vulnerable with any of my past partners because I had nothing to lose, really. Most of them never even got to see me with my clothes off. Pony’s the only person I’ve ever gotten fully naked for and even that took months.

“There’s just… a lot going on with me, clearly. I don’t really like myself or my body very much, but I like sex. Like… a lot. Too much actually. And I’ve realized that it’s because I shut myself down. I don’t have to think or react, I just feel and get high off of the rush it brings. Even if I’m so full of shame afterwards. I guess… what I’m saying is that I’m scared because I’m used to sex void of emotion and I know that sex with you is going to be full of  
It and that’s extremely scary.” 

Ghoul brushes his lips softly against Poison’s. “Well, you have nothing to be afraid of.” 

He hums contently, settling against his boyfriend’s chest. “I feel so safe with you,” Poison murmurs. Ghoul plays with his hair for a few minutes, letting the words dissolve into the air around them. Eventually he pulls them both up, straightening Poison’s jacket. 

“Okay, you have a party to finish planning, Babe.”

Poison just groans. “Can’t we postpone it until tomorrow? I just want to melt into a gooey puddle on the mattress with you.”

“Later.” Ghoul gives him a soft peck on the lips. “Promise.” 

Party Poison sighs dramatically as Ghoul intertwines their fingers and pulls him back out into the front of the diner. Jet has taken over Patty’s task and Kobra is still grumpily making paper chains in the corner. When they notice each other, Jet shoots a look at Kobra and jerks his head towards the two of them. 

Kobra rolls his eyes, sighing dramatically as he gets up to stand in front of his older brother. “I’m… sorry that I made inappropriate comments about your sex life-“ he begins, in a monotone voice, as he recites a Jet Approved apology. “It was out of line and I need to work on finding a more positive outlet for my negative emotions-“ he sighs, “rather than taking them out on those closest to me.”

Party just laughs and pulls his brother into an uncomfortably tight hug and claps him on the back. “Hey, it’s cool, Bud! S’your birthday so you get a free pass today!” 

Kobra grits his teeth. “It’s not my-“ Jet shoots him another look, holding up his scissors threateningly and Kobra sighs in defeat. “Thank you. For caring so much,” he says finally.

“That’s my job, you dummy. Now, come on, Cherri and Dr. D should be here any minute.” 

The decorating is finished and Party is in his room, getting all dolled up by the time the car pulls up to the front of the diner. The crew helps to carry in the supplies as Cherri helps the Doctor into his wheelchair. When the pair comes through the door and Kobra immediately launches himself at the doctor, pulling him into a hug. 

“H-hey, kiddo! It’s been a while! How’ve you been?” 

“Oh you know, keeping busy with my schooling. Getting straight A’s.” 

“Yeah, right. As if you could keep a straight anything,” Poison says as he comes out from behind the counter and drapes himself in Ghoul’s lap. He chokes down a yelp of surprise as Party Poison subtly grinds his hips back against Ghoul’s lap, as if the red skirt and velvet tank top combo he’s wearing aren’t enough to get him riled. 

Kobra just ignores him and goes on to ramble to the Doctor about this new comic he’s reading and how much he loved the latest broadcast. It’s one of the few moments where he actually looks his age, his eyes wide as he talks, his arms waving frantically. Ghoul is glad his mood has improved so drastically, but wonders just how long it’s going to last. Like his older brother, it was often hard to tell with Kobra… Meanwhile, Jet helps Cherri get the food and drinks set out and Party moves further back into Ghoul’s lap, grinding his hips down again. 

Ghoul pinches his side and hisses, “Stop that!” 

Party just chuckles, stretching out his long legs to show off the ripped fishnets he’s wearing that he knows Ghoul loves. “Make me,” he says with a small giggle as he gets up to go help the others. Ghoul can’t stop staring at him as he swishes away to the other side of the room. He’s so enamored he doesn’t realize that Dr. D. has come up to him and is watching him with an amused smile on his face. 

“Careful, son, you leave your mouth open like that for too long you might start to catch bugs,” D says, clapping a hand on Ghoul’s shoulder and startling him.

“I-I- whatever!” He says, though his cheeks feel hot and he can’t help but smile.

“I know that stare- I’ve done that stare. Still catch myself doing it from time to time.” Dr. D gazes fondly over at Cherri who is helping Jet open a bottle of long expired soda, his tongue poking out of his mouth as he struggles to loosen to the cap while Poison laughs at him. His face is turning a little red and he looks ridiculous, but that’s basically his default state.

Eventually Pony rolls through the front door and takes the soda from him, stabbing the metal cap with their pocket knife. They remove it easily and take a long drink before handing the bottle back to Poison. 

“Useless men, all of you,” they announce as they roll over and drape themselves in Kobra’s lap.

“Do you think… do you think you would still love him as much as you do, or even at all if the world was- well, different?” Ghoul asks suddenly.

The Doctor takes off his glasses and cleans them on the front of his shirt, which only manages to smudge them more as he ponders the question. “Now I’m just a superstitious old man, but I’d like to think that in every new life, in every new form, we would find each other. I’ve seen too much to not believe in that. Or him. Our love doesn’t last because it’s the only thing we have. We last because we have our love, as awfully sappy as that sounds. Think I’d still feel that way even if Texas still existed…” 

Ghoul is about to say something when Poison returns to his lap and kisses his forehead. “Well, did’ya miss me?”

“Nah,” Ghoul says with a smirk as Poison pouts. Cherri walks over and hands Dr. D a soda as he sits down next to him. 

Cherri takes a swig of his own drink as he marvels at the decorations and the lightness in the air. “You know, I always hated my birthday until I got out to the Zones. It was so easy to get caught up in all the bullshit, to lament about getting older. Now, to have the luck, the opportunity to even grow old at all is… a blessing,” he says with a smile as he threads the fingers of his free hands beneath the Doctor’s. 

“Well, I propose a toast then!” Party announces, climbing out of Ghoul’s lap once more and raising his bottle, encouraging his friends to do the same. 

“To another year survived! And to growing old. Though, if we don’t make it to next year, may we burn a lot of shit down in the process!” They all make noises of affirmation as they clink their bottles together. 

“Speaking of things that survived the apocalypse… I picked these up the other day…” Pony hands Kobra their bottle as they begin to rummage through the paper bag they brought with them. 

Cherri’s eyes widen. “Wait you didn’t-?”

“Oh, I did!” They dump the contents of the bag onto the table as Cherri looks like a little kid who got locked inside a candy store at the end of the world.

“What… are these things, Babe?” Kobra asks as he holds up a small yellow sponge cake in plastic foil. 

“That- is what they called a Twinkie back in the day. It’s a sponge cake filled with creme that tastes like disappointment and nostalgia. My favorites though are these-” They hold up something called a “Moon Pie” that shouldn’t look as appetizing as it does, considering it managed to last this long on its own… 

Dr. D eyes the cakes suspiciously while Cherri inhales an entire Twinkie in one bite. “Cher, these things are probably older than Kobra. You know how badly they rationed sugar during the war.”

“Well, something has to kill me eventually, right?” He says with a shrug as he shoves another Twinkie in his mouth. 

“Thank Destroya you were never diabetic…” 

“Whose dick did you have to suck to get these?” Poison asks in disbelief. “Tommy’s the only one who ever has any of this old vending machine crap and he always charges nearly 1,000 carbons a piece for them.”

“I have my ways…” Pony says with a smirk.

Meanwhile, Ghoul has opened a Moon Pie and is carefully inspecting it. He sniffs the tiny round cookie in his hand and rolls it over in his palm. Poison just laughs at him. “I’ve never seen you so hesitant around sugar before. Here-“ He takes the cookie, snaps it in half and takes one for himself. “We can eat it together so I can prove to you it’s not poisoned.”

They take a bite of it together and Ghoul’s nose crinkles up. It’s hard and kind of stale, but it tastes kind of buttery and sweet. “What is this flavor called?” 

Poison giggles. “Butterscotch. They’re my favorite flavor. I remember when our mother was pregnant with Kobra, she was craving these things like crazy. Talked about them constantly. My dad managed to bring two home one day and she was just overjoyed. She insisted on sharing one with me, even though she knew that was the last time she’d ever be able to have one. It’s kind of fuzzy because I was so young but it’s a happy memory. Here Kobra, you should try one.” He holds it out to Kobra who just smacks his hand away.

“It looks fucking disgusting,” he spits. Poison raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t say anything. 

“You know what I miss the most, though?” Doctor D says with a fond smile. “Cake.”

“You seriously miss those awful sheet cakes with the terrible decorations and the twelve layers of frosting?” Pony asks.

“I mostly miss the ritual of it. The candles that always melted before that terrible song sung by your tone-deaf relatives was over, making stupid wishes as wax pooled on top of the cake,” Cherri adds.

“I miss shoving your face into it,” the Doctor says with a smirk. 

Cherri rolls his eyes. “Only because I let you lick the frosting off afterwards…” 

“I think this whole “birthday” thing is fucking stupid…” Kobra announces to no one in particular. Jet just groans because he knows where this is going.

“Well you’re the last teenager in the family, so it’s your job to hate everything,” Party chides and everyone laughs but Kobra. 

“No, seriously. What’s the point? We’re probably all going to be fucking dead in a year anyway…” 

“Yeah, well, you said that last year, the year before, and five years ago. And look at us- we’re all still here.” 

Kobra just rolls his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest. “Whatever…”

“C’mon, why are you like this every year? Mom celebrated our birthdays every year it’s-“

“Well Mom is fucking dead! And I’m tired of you bringing her up every five seconds because I don’t even remember her! What she did doesn’t mean fucking shit to me!” Kobra tries to stomp off but Poison grabs his sleeve. The atmosphere in the room has changed drastically and everyone is afraid to react or say anything, aware of this routine by now.

“No, you don’t get to stomp away after acting like a fucking baby! You’re a goddamned adult, there’s no reason you need to keep acting like this every year.”

“Oh fuck you! I keep telling you over and over again that I don’t give a shit! But you keep forcing me to do it anyway and then wonder why I get pissed!” 

“Well maybe if you stopped being such an ungrateful brat all the time you’d realize I’m just trying to give you a normal fucking life-“

“Newsflash, Poison! “Normal” doesn’t exist anymore. Normal was killed off with 99% of the population! That shit is dead and gone and I couldn’t care less. I’ll never know what “normal” is, so you’re better off just not even trying…” 

Poison presses his fingers to his temples and sighs. “Kobra... I was there when you were born. I held you in my arms, and I looked at your stupid, scrunched up baby-face and you looked up at me with your big dark eyes. And you wrapped your entire fist around my little finger and Dad said, “Someday it’ll be just you two against the world. You have to take care of each other.” I’ll never forget that… So maybe the shit I do doesn’t make sense to you, but I do this all for you. I do. There is more to living than just waiting to die.” 

Kobra just sighs and brushes the tears away from the corners of his eyes. “I’m sorry I just… I get so tired of you guys all talking about how the world used to be. Because you were there to see it and I was… I was born too late, I guess,” he says softly, all the fight gone from his body in seconds.

Poison just grips his shoulders tightly. “Kobra look at me. The world has not ended. We joke about it, but we’re still here and we’re all it’s got left. So we have to make the most of it and suck all the fun and joy and pain out of life that we can. That’s why I do this every year.” 

Kobra nods firmly as Poison pulls him into a hug. After a few moments, he says, “Now that all that mushy stuff if out of the way, let’s party, yeah?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I like to imagine that there’s an underground black market in Battery City that sells things like condoms and snack foods and there are runners that transport things back and forth from the Zones and the City. Realistically, though, would Twinkies survive the apocalypse? Probably. 
> 
> (Yes, it’s reference to Zombie Land, which this story unintentionally has taken inspiration from in many ways haha.)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghoul and Party sneak away from the party to be sickeningly cute and emotional.

Eventually they sneak off to the roof, after the party is in full swing because Party “really needs a goddamned smoke before I explode.” The horizon is streaked red and the sunset looks like an angry gash in the sky as Ghoul watches Poison smoke. He has his mask on, red hair disheveled and falling in his face, as a takes another drag and exhales a cloud of smoke. He flicks his ash over the side of the building and casts a sideways glance at his boyfriend, who hasn’t been able to stop staring at him. It’s hard not to stare at him when he manages to look like something out of a piece of art, silhouetted perfectly against the dying light, so beautiful as he surveys the wasteland stretching out beneath him. 

“What?” Poison asks with a laugh.

Ghoul looks away quickly, caught in the act. “N-nothing! I’m just- just thinking about how you’re willingly filling your lungs with cancer and how I should be mad about it. But it’s also insanely hot.”

Party Poison snorts as he flicks more ash into the air and watches the embers float off on the breeze. “Something has to be the death of me, doesn’t?” he asks with a wry smirk.

“Yeah,” Ghoul agrees softly as he watches Poison’s lips form a perfect ring to exhale another cloud of smoke before he finishes his cigarette and stamps it out beneath his heel. Ghoul scoots closer to him as stares at his face, so hidden and far away. “You only smoke when you’re thinking too hard about something.”

Poison sighs and smiles again, shaking his head gently. “You know me too well…” 

Ghoul gently slides the mask from Poison’s face, his thumbs brushing across his cheeks. As their eyes meet, Ghoul murmurs, “Tell me what’s on your mind, Sugar.”

Poison rests his head on Ghoul’s shoulder and hesitates. “It’s just that… I’m so happy. Happier than I’ve ever felt. Despite everything, we all found each other and decided to make a life out here in this shithole and I- I never really had a real family besides Kobra. And when it was just the two of us against everything, I felt okay because I was just so relieved to have gotten the us out alive. Then we met Jet and the rest of the crew and started to build a life out here. But I’d never really… felt like I had a home, you know? Until I met you. 

“Then we found this place and started to make memories in it. And home was a tangible place because it’s where you always were, where we really fell in love and I’ve gotten so used to being able to come home to this place, to come home to a bed, my boys... to _you._ I just realized today that I’m comfortable for the first time in my life. And that scares the shit out of me.” 

Ghoul knows the feeling all too well. It was all he could think about when he met the Killjoys, when he became one of them. “Don’t get too attached. Don’t get too close. Nothing can’t hurt you if you have nothing to lose.” But he couldn’t help it. He had too much love in him. 

“It scares me, too, sometimes. But the older I get the less I care about surviving and the more I care about trying to actually live. What’s the point in staying alive if all we do is run? Maybe it’s stupid to get comfortable, but I can’t help it. If that’s the one thing that kills me, it has to be something, right?” Ghoul says with a smirk. 

Poison is quiet for a moment as he rummages through his pockets. “So I um… I might’ve lied about why I came up here. The real reason is that I wanted to give you this.” 

He places a small black pouch in Ghoul’s hand. “Babe, you got me a birthday present?” 

“Well, duh! It’s wouldn’t be a real party without one.” Ghouls smiles as he gently unties the bag and removes its contents slowly. A familiar gold, heart-shaped locket slides out into his palm. The metal is worn and scratched with age, the gold coating nearly worn off entirely to reveal the shine of the brass underneath. Engraved into the metal are the letter “M.V.W.” 

“I’m giving you my heart. Officially,” he says with a soft chuckle.

Ghoul just stares at the necklace, running his finger over it. This necklace is Poison’s prized possession that he never takes off. “But Baby, I can't take this it’s-“ 

Ghoul tries to hand it hack but Party just shakes his head and closes Ghoul’s fingers over it. “It was a gift from my mother when I was born. A family heirloom passed down from her great grandmother along with her name. Obviously, I kept the necklace but no the name,” he says with a chuckle. “But It’s the only piece of her Kobra and I have left. And I- I want you to have it.” 

“Poison…”

He kisses Ghoul softly and cups his chin in his palm. “I know that you’ll keep it safe,” he whispers. 

Ghoul doesn’t speak as Poison takes the locket from him and fastens it around his neck. “There,” he says, straightening the chain. “Now you’ll always carry it with you.” 

They end up curled beneath a blanket staring up at the stars, Poison resting his head against Ghoul’s chest, the thump of his heart tickling his cheek. 

“Ghoulie?”

“Mmhmm?” 

“Do you ever imagine what life would like if the world was still… normal?”

Ghoul worries his lip as he contemplates the question. “You mean like… for us?” 

“Yeah.”

A lump starts to form in his throat as he thinks of of future he’s imagined for them, one where they’re happily married and working to build a family of their own. With a house in the suburbs, painted the color of sunshine, where photographs decorate every wall and love spills out through the floorboards. A life of comfort, warmth and stability. A life that they’ll never have.

“I would’ve married you, you know,” Ghouls says finally. 

“Really?” 

“In a fucking heartbeat.” 

“And we would’ve grown old together and spend our days in matching rocking chairs on the porch, surrounded by our grandchildren, right?” 

Ghoul laughs and he shifts in his spot to look at Party’s face. “Of course.”

“Would you still marry me now? Even though the world has already ended?” Poison asks quietly. 

Ghoul wants to laugh again, but there’s something about the way that he says it, and the vulnerability in his expression that makes him hesitate. “I mean I- I know that it would mean nothing out here but- but does anything really in the grand scheme of things? We’re all just- we’re all doomed anyways.” Party’s backtracking now, words stumbling and crashing into each other at full speed. Ghoul puts a hand on his cheek.

“It would matter to me, though. To us. If you take away all the legal shit marriage is nothing but a promise. In sickness and in health, I know that when I die I’m going to do it by your side, regardless of how we go out. Technically, we’re already married. We’ve made those promises dozens of times, exchanged the vows, done the dance so to speak…” 

Poison looks at him expectantly. “But I know how you love a ceremony, if that-“ Ghoul jerks his finger to the party going on at full force beneath them, “is any indication.” They kiss softly, laughing against each other’s lips. 

“So you’d do it?” Party Poison asks softly.

Ghoul chuckles, “Honey, I’ll take any excuse I can to see you in a wedding dress.” 

“Right… Pony would probably have to make me one out of garbage…”

“As if you wouldn’t love that. Half of your wardrobe is made out of old garbage!” 

Poison punches his arms a little too hard and Ghoul sits up with a howl. “That’s it! I’m divorcing you and taking the kids!”

Poison rests his head on his hand and looks up at Ghoul with a blissful smile. “Anyways, I was just wondering. Doesn’t have to happen now. Gives me something to look forward to, actually…”

“Damn, so you weren’t proposing to me?” 

“Yes and no,” he says with a sly smile.

Ghoul rolls his eyes. “God you’re so confusing.” 

“But you love me anyway.”

Ghoul sighs in defeat. “I guess I do…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really loving these little vignettes. Feel free to send me suggestions or headcannons that you’d like to see me work into the story of you want! I’m thinking of exploring more with the other characters, especially Jet. So any ideas would be appreciated! (And you would be credited, obvs.) Anyway, hope y’all enjoy! :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here’s a Kobra and Pony chapter! I’m planning to do more of these with the different characters and pairings and get inside their heads a little more. Hope y’all like it! :)

Show Pony has one hand on the steering wheel and the other on Kobra’s knee, singing far too loudly and off key to the radio. The sun has just started to make its way behind the hills, so the world is golden, everything softer and easier to look at.

Pony’s eyes are like liquid gold in the fading light, dancing with unabashed joy and mischief. Kobra has a village of knots in his stomach the size of Texas and a lump forming in his throat by the time they’ve reached their destination. He’s been resisting the urge to spill his guts for quite some time now, wrestling with reason, with indecision. But at that moment he knows, without any doubts. 

As the car comes to a screeching halt, Pony looks over at Kobra and grins. He feels like he’s going to melt into the leather interior of the passenger seat and hopes that the flush of his face can be blamed on the wind. He unbuckles his seatbelt as Pony starts to unload supplies from the trunk, tries to urge his hands to stop shaking.

Thankfully, he’s saved from speaking as his boyfriend tosses a load of food rations into his arms. Kobra stumbles back slightly and Pony chuckles. “Sorry, Hun! I didn’t mean to attack you like that.”

Kobra just smiles softly and rolls his eyes as he heads inside. After a few trips to the car, Pony says, draping themselves in the doorway in from of him, “You’re awful quiet today, K. Everything alright?”

Kobra looks at them with their dark hair askew from the wind tied back with a bandana, their clothes lose and faded, so unlike what they usually wear, the barest smudges of eyeliner beneath their eyes. They looked absolutely exhausted from driving all day, but their eyes still sparkled with mischief. Even at their most disheveled and worn out, Pony is breathtaking. Kobra forgets how to breathe for a moment as he looks at them.

“Yeah, P. Just tired.” 

Pony hums as they press a kiss to the top of his head. They set down the last load of supplies next to the door of the station and nudge the door closed with their boot. “Go lie down, Hun, I’ll come join you in a second.”

Kobra makes his way over to the futon as Pony locks the door and checks the security system. Cherri and the Doctor were both out today and Pony was in charge of “keeping the place from burning down.” Then the two of them had made a joke about their parents going away and having the house to themselves. 

It wasn’t often that they had quiet moments together, Pony made sure of that. It was just in their nature to always be moving, cracking a joke, making a scene. One of the things Kobra loves most about them is their ability to make the dullest of situations interesting, to turn a funeral into a riot. But it also makes it more difficult to get to the person underneath all of the noise. On the surface, Show Pony seems like an open book, they’re so open about what they want, about who they are. 

But beneath all of the glitter and dramatics, there is a vulnerability, a softness that Kobra only every sees glimpses of. It’s not that he believes the other parts of Pony’s personality are a façade, but rather simply played up to disguise the messier parts. And it’s not a side of them he gets to see very often.

Kobra’s thinking too deeply about it all as he lays on the pulled out futon, staring at the cushions until they go out of focus. Reality comes flooding back when Pony lays down next to him, threading their arms around his waist and placing their chin on his shoulder. Kobra finds himself relaxing back into their touch, unaware he was even tense to begin with. He hums softly as Pony kisses the side of his jaw and presses their nose in his hair.

“Your skin is so soft,” Pony murmurs as they trace the freckles down Kobra’s arm. 

Kobra giggles. “Thanks, I moisturize exclusively with sand and dirt.” 

“Yet you still look so damn pretty.” Pony kisses Kobra’s neck again and he feels himself starting to melt again. It’s been over a week since they’ve been intimate and since they’re both grossly needy and affectionate, that’s far too long. But this feels different from all of the other times they’ve both been alone with print up feelings of lust and need and Kobra can’t determine why. 

“Baby, I need to sleep,” Kobra whines with a smile in his voice. Pony chuckles. 

“I won’t keep you up, doll. Promise.”

Kobra turns his head to look at them skeptically. “That’s a first,” he says it teasingly but he really means it. 

Pony smirks. “Don’t see you complainin’. Quite the opposite actually.”

Kobra rolls back over and snorts. Pony just grabs his waist and pulls him close again, pressing soft kisses against his jaw and neck, paying special attention to a particular spot on his neck. Kobra tries to squirm away but Pony has a firm hold on his waist with one strong arm. He can’t help bursting into giggles. “Dammit, P! I-I’m ticklish there!” 

“Oh I know,” Pony says with a smirk before kissing him there again. 

“This- ah! This is the weirdest foreplay ever!” he says with a squeal as Pony starts to dig their fingers into Kobra’s sides. Eventually Pony stops the incessant torture and Kobra leans back against them, strong arms wrapping around his waist, holding him close, keeping him together. 

“I just wanted to make you smile,” Pony murmurs into his shoulder.

Kobra is so in love he feels like he’s going to melt in his lover’s arms. He buries his face into Pony’s chest, taking in the smell of their perfume mixed with sweat and gasoline, listening to their heart thump against their sternum, breathing steady and light.

“You always do,” Kobra whispers back.

Pony just strokes his hair gently and doesn’t say anything. Part of him is surprised Pony hasn’t tried to make a move. Although he definitely won’t say no if they do and he enjoys when they sleep together, he often worries that that’s all they are. There are moments when Pony’s overly cocky, dominating façade will slip and Kobra catches them looking at him with the goofiest smile on their face. Or he’ll catch them singing to him softly when they think he’s already asleep, their angelic voice floating over his head in a beautiful blur. 

There has to be more to this, to what they are, he’s constantly telling himself. But it’s been months and neither of them has the guts to say it out loud. So they move around each other carefully, gently, trying to convey everything they’re too afraid to voice through their actions, through their kisses. Kobra wants to ask his boyfriend about it but really had no idea where to start. This whole “love” and romance thing is completely foreign to him and he is, to put it simply, fucking terrified. 

But he’s too tired to let himself think about it anymore. So he lets his eyes slip closed and as his breathing slows, Pony starts to sing. The melody is a song Kobra recognizes, but the lyrics are in Spanish, like they always are. Pony told him once that the music was all they had left of where they came from, of the culture, of the family that had raised them. He can pick out some of the words, but the rest just meld and blur in his mind. Almost immediately, Kobra falls asleep with Pony still stroking his hair and singing softly, unaware just how loved he truly is.

_ —  _

Kobra wakes up to Pony’s arms wrapped around his waist, their hair in his mouth, and the sound of them snoring directly into his ear. He can’t help but laugh as he adjusts himself into a slightly more comfortable position and curls back against them, trying to fall back asleep. It’s been a long time since he’s slept in the same bed with anyone and he forgot how calming it is to wake up feeling safe and secure in the arms of someone you love.

When they first came out to the Zones, Kobra was too afraid to sleep by himself. He wasn’t used to the quiet, ominous darkness that loomed over the desert at night. In the city, there was constant noise and movement, every building garish and shining, blocking out the stars and blinding its people to everything beyond its borders. Poison started sharing a cot with him to help Kobra get to sleep. Although he’s complained about it often, they both knew that he needed it just as badly. So each night they’d curl up together and Poison would hog the blankets and Kobra would move around too much or snore too loudly. And they’d complain in the morning to cover up how scared they actually were. 

Obviously they’d grown out of it, but there were still some nights where Kobra would go and crawl into Poison’s bed without explanation and he would comply and pull back the blankets with a word. And they’d fall asleep easily to the sound of each other’s breathing. Clearly that had all changed when Poison met Ghoul and he had really taken Kobra’s place. And it’s not like Jet was very good at cuddling, comforting, or emotional sat all really. 

So he leans back into his lover’s arms and tries to savior their touch and their warmth for as long as possible. Eventually Pony starts to stir, and Kobra knows they’re completely awake when they bury their face into his hair and hum happily. Kobra rolls over so they’re facing each other and Pony smiles sleepily, looking far too gorgeous with morning breath and dark circles beneath their eyes.

“Good morning,  _ cariño,”  _ they murmur as they press a kiss to Kobra’s temple. He tries his best not melt at the nickname, but fails miserably. It’s moments like these that he holds onto and savors, like little reminders that this is real and he’s not just making it all up in his head. 

That morning, they take Kobra’s bike back to the diner. Pony lets Kobra drive, and he can’t help but feel strangely powerful with their arms wrapped tightly around his waist. When they arrive, Pony gets off first and takes off their helmet in one clean motion and Kobra puts the kickstand down on the bike. His heart is in his throat as he watches their dark brown hair fall down in waves around their face as thy shake it out. They wink and give him a sexy smile when they catch him staring. As a result, Kobra stumbles getting off the bike and nearly knocks it over in the process. Pony just laughs as they catch him easily, arms looping around his waist and gently pulling him upright.

“Damn, K, didn’t know I made you so weak in the knees,” they say with a winning smile that Kobra knows has broken so many hearts. Deep down he knows that he’s just going to be another one. They’re standing very close as Kobra looks up at Pony, their noses practically touching, arms now looped around each other. He looks up at their warm, dark eyes, so gentle and full of life, wonder, and mischief and he feels like he can’t hold it back any longer. 

He opens his mouth to speak but the words are lost in the silence as Pony stares at him quizzically. “You alright, K?”

“I- Pony I-“ He feels the pressure building in his gut, as his face flushed as he finds himself stuttering and stumbling over the words. But before he can manage to get them out, the door to the diner slams open and Party rushes out. Kobra pulls away quickly, like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Pony gives him a worried look but Kobra just ignores it.

“You okay, Kobra? You look like you’ve seen the Phoenix Witch or something,” Party teases as he throws an arm around Pony’s shoulder. Pony immediately relaxes into his side and for the first time ever, Kobra feels his stomach drop looking at them. How could he ever think he had a chance with this person? When they’d dated  _ Party _ , of all people. Kobra has spent his entire life living in his brother’s shadow and never really cared much because it saved him the torture of being visible.

But when it came to Pony, Kobra had always felt inadequate. Like he could never live up to Party and all of his sexiness, confidence, and charisma. It also didn’t help matters that Party was basically a sex god who had basically seen- and  _ done _ it all, while Kobra was new to pretty much everything until he and Pony had gotten together. Pony also had their fair share of hookups and flings and while Kobra has tried to keep up with them and Pony says that he's the best they’ve ever had, he can’t quite bring himself to believe it.  

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just… need to go be alone for a while he mumbles as he leaves the two of them to talk shop (I.E. talk about boys). Kobra wanders into the diner where Jet is sitting at a booth playing with his Gameboy. Kobra gives him a gentle wave and doesn’t say anything as he grabs one of his many piles of comics and motions towards the garage. Jet just nods and gives him a thumbs up.

Kobra finds the garage empty save for the Trans Am and breathes a sigh of relief. He takes his stack of comics and curls up in the backseat, relishing in the quiet and partial darkness as he immerses himself within the pages. Most of the issues he has are well-loved and faded with use, but he never tired of reading the same stories over and over. Sometimes he convinces himself that the ending will be different, although he knows it won’t. It’s the same way he feels about Pony, he realizes. 

The thought is jarring and makes it impossible for him to continue reading. Kobra simply stares at the ceiling of the cab and sighs as that ever-present ache begins to fill his chest once more. He’s so in love with Show Pony, and knows without a doubt that he would hang the stars in the sky if they asked him too. Anything to make them happy, to keep them smiling. After about an hour since Kobra’s departure, Pony comes into the garage and knocks gently on the window, giving their boyfriend a small smile. Kobra sits up and rolls the window down slowly.

“Hey, can I come in?” Pony asks gently and Kobra simply nods. They slide into the passenger seat and climb over the center console until they’re sitting next to Kobra. They take his hand and intertwine their fingers together, kissing his forehead.

Kobra leans into the touch and sighs softly. “Please tell me what’s botherin’ you, K.”

Kobra looks up at them then, their brown eyes full of worry. He opens his mouth to speak but his stomach sinks when he remembers how Pony is too good for him, how he doesn’t deserve this much attention and devotion. He bites his lip and lowers his head in shame. “I-I can’t.” 

Pony hesitates but takes Kobra’s face in their hands, gently brushing their thumbs over his jaw. “Kobra, darlin’ I- I love you so much and I would-“ 

Kobra looks up startled. “Y-You l-love me?!” he asks. 

Pony makes a face of confusion. “I- Of course I do. I- is that a problem?”

Kobra shakes his head far too enthusiastically. “No! That’s the exact opposite of a problem! I just… I love you, too. A lot actually. More than I’ve ever loved anyone.” 

Pony grins and shakes their head. “My sweet boy… Is that what got you so upset?” 

Kobra nods sheepishly. Pony kisses him softly, in the most gentle way possible. Their lips just barely graze his, but it’s so sweet, so innocent. They exchange soft kisses for a while until Pony ends up in Kobra’s lap again. They exchange countless “I love you’s,” relishing in the freedom of finally saying it out loud as they both gradually lose more and more pieces of clothing. 

  
They definitely do  _ not _ break Jet’s rule about not having sex in the Trans Am. Not at all.


	13. Chapter 13

Jet often likes to watch the sunrise. He always gets up early, makes himself a cup of coffee, climbs up to the roof, and watches as the light rises slowly over the jagged horizon. He finds it calming to watch the sky turn amber, then gold, slowly fading to blue. There was something so refreshing and so purifying about quiet mornings like this. Before the light truly settled in and illuminated all of his doubts, all of his fears. 

The air is still cool that morning as Jet sits back and rests his elbows on the arms of the lawn chair they’d placed up there months ago. He cups his mug with both hands, letting the warmth deep into his skin. As the morning settles in, he feels so aware of everything around him. And so incredibly lonely but in a way that is oddly comforting. His family is sleeping soundly below him and he knows that as soon as the sun rises, it will fade along with the darkness. 

Jet of all people knows how easy it is to feel alone out here, and like the scorching heat and the bitter cold, the loneliness finds its way into one's bones eventually, even if they have the most devoted of friends. It’s a feeling Jet knows all too well and has resided within him so long it’s practically an old friend and is difficult to let go of.

Like most Zone Rats, Jet had fled the city on his own, clinging to the barest shreds of memory and humanity. It had been far too natural to retreat inward and give into that feral side of himself that so many Killjoys used to survive. He spent years sleeping on the ground, killing small prey animals for food, and scrounging for days to find the smallest sip of drinkable water. The desert hardened him to everything he had used to be, everything that he had left behind. 

Salvation had come to him in the form of a battered, black market stereo he found abandoned in an old shop, hidden behind boxes of rotting food. He’d tinkered with it for days, and stolen batteries and parts from a few hacked vending machines until he managed to get it working again. For weeks he picked up nothing but static. Still, he found the sound soothing and preferred it to the still quiet of the desert at night. When his hands and mind grew idle and restless, Jet would play with the knobs, switching stations on an endless loop, never picking up anything but white noise.

That is, until one night he heard the faintest hint of music coming down the waves, so soft it was nearly a whisper. It was only present for a second before it disappeared completely. Frantically Jet twisted the dials hoping to hear it again but got nothing. Every night it became a game for him to try to pick up a signal, or any signal that gave any indication that he wasn’t alone out here. And eventually, his prayers were answered in the form of a rough, soothing voice piercing through the static. 

He chased that signal across the desert for years only for it to dead end in silence. Jet had almost given up hope when he was stumbled upon two young brothers, both dirty and wild-eyed. The eldest one had pounced on him and put a gun to his throat, snarling in a language Jet didn’t fully understand. The younger boy was huddled in the corner in a bundle of tattered blankets, sleeping. His skin was clammy and pale and there was a large canteen of water sitting next to him.

He could only respond by falling to his knees and presenting his radio, setting it down on the floor and pointing at it as if that answered why he was there. The older boy just rolled his eyes and pushed his bright red hair out of his face with the butt of his gun. After a brief period of interrogation, the kid eventually realized that Jet was harmless and couldn’t speak at all. Still, he wore a façade of toughness until his younger brother began to stir, moving fitfully in his sleep. His defenses fell immediately when he rushed to the boy’s side, putting a hand on his forehead and whispering gently to him. Jet watched as he petted his hair tenderly and slowly raised the canteen of water to his lips. 

When he returned to sit in front of Jet Star, the boy sighed and shook his head, running a hand over his face. He couldn’t have been more than fourteen years old, but he looked so much older, eyes far too tired for someone his age.

“I guess you can stay for the night if you need to. But pull any shit and I’ll fucking kill you without hesitation,” he said eventually, before going to lay down next to his brother. 

He watched his chest rising and falling as if to ensure that he kept breathing before he eventually fell asleep, clearly exhausted. Watching the two of them awakened something in Jet, an old part of him he thought he had lost. He looked at their young faces and could feel himself trying to remember what had come before the running and the hiding. Perhaps he had a boy of his own, with his crooked teeth and unruly hair, but like most everything else, what used to be had been stolen from him. It left an ache in him that he hadn’t realized was there until he studied the forms of the two brothers. And although he didn’t have to, Jet kept watch most of the night, his gun in one hand and the dial of his radio in the other. The static comforted him, like an old friend as he watched the light start to creep across the horizon and through the slats of the boarded-up windows. 

Years in the desert had made him attuned to the smallest movement, the smallest noise. So when he saw a flash of movement outside and heard the soft crunching of boots on gravel, Jet readied his weapon and slowly slinked to the doorway. He could sense the presence of someone on the other side of the door, knew there had to be at least three of them out there waiting to ambush him. 

He didn’t even think of waking the boys as he walked straight out into a firefight. Despite their clear disadvantage due to age and size, one of them was extremely sick and the other was clearly exhausted. They’d die out here, dusted in one clean shot. So Jet took on the draculoids alone, managing to shoot two in the face and crack the skull of another. They were dead within seconds and Jet spent more time looting their corpses then he did fighting. 

He was kneeling on the ground, searching the bodies for supplies when he realized that the eldest boy was standing in the doorway watching him. Jet managed to collect a few extra battery packs and a handful of carbons along with the keys to three bikes and a pair of heavy, warm boots. He didn’t say anything to the boy as he offered the supplies to him. 

The boy, who reluctantly introduced himself as Poison, had thanked him and told Jet he could stay for a few more nights if he wanted to. Poisons’s kid brother was sick and they needed someone to help them make it to a safe house Poison had been trying to track for weeks. It was somewhere in Zone 3, but he’d only been going off of tips from other Zone Rats, his best navigation tool a handful of hand-drawn maps scribbled on pieces of garbage and crumpled napkins. 

So they set off on their bikes, following Poison’s maps as best they could. In the nights when the boys would lie sleeping and Jet would keep watch over them, he would continue to fiddle with the radio dials. Soon enough, as they got deeper into their journey, he realized that the signal was becoming more clear. When they had traveled beyond the stretch of Poison’s maps, they started to follow the signal, scribbling down what Poison insisted were code words and latitudinal directions hidden throughout the broadcasts. 

And slowly but surely, these subtle clues lead them to a seemingly abandoned safe house in the middle of nowhere. When they arrived, the three of them were exhausted and the Kid’s (as Poison called him) condition had only gotten worse. They were practically dead on their feet, falling in a heap at the doorstep as the cold night started to close in around them. A man greeted them at the entrance, his kind, dark eyes sparkling with worry as he surveyed the sorry sight in front of him. 

Jet would later discover that his name was Cherri Cola and he was part of a small group of smugglers who ran safe houses throughout the Zones and spent most of his early years in the desert playing nurse, stitching up bullet wounds and keeping young Zone Rats from dying of dehydration. It was through Cherri that Jet and the boys would eventually meet Dr. D (after Kobra had made a full recovery, that is). Jet definitely short-circuited a little after finally meeting the man behind the voice that had kept him going for so many years. Although they had all met by circumstance, and the alliance between Jet and the boys was only meant to be temporary, they developed a quick fondness for one another. 

Jet began to see the boys almost like children, younger brothers that needed to be protected from the world at all costs. In return, Party and Kobra looked up to him, even if his constant doting did get annoying at times. The more time they spent together, the more Jet’s ability to speak began to return and although talking with others was still difficult at times, the boys made him feel at ease, even as he stuttered and stumbled from one train of thought to another. Although he had a tendency to turn inwards on himself, they always managed to pull him back out. 

This is why what originally was meant to be a one night stay, turned into a week, then months, then years. Before anyone knew it, they were a family. Albeit a very strange and dysfunctional one, patched together by both fate a circumstance, but a family nonetheless. It quickly grew easy to forget what the static ever sounded like, when it was replaced by noise, music, and the sounds of laughter. 

Suddenly, Jet was home and he hadn’t even been looking for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's a short Jet chapter finally! A major theme in this story is the loss of memory, which is a plot point in the Killjoys Comic, where there's like an evil mind erasing machine or whatever that's used to punish dissenters and keep people in line basically. 
> 
> I've seen a lot of fics that talk about the Killjoys' lives before BLI and running away to go be gay in the desert, but I really wanted to focus on the present for them and the family they built out of the wreckage of their old lives. So I made their backstories intentionally vague for that reason. I'm planning on doing more character studies like this in the future, so let me know if you like them! :)


End file.
